Scion of Honor
by Arthur Hansen
Summary: Betrayed by the gods, exiled from Earth, Sheila Henderson finds herself the pawn of Fate even as ancient enemies plot her death. It's enough to make a girl mad. Fighting mad. Even two thousand years isn't enough to stop her.
1. Exile

**Book 1: Exile**

**Chapter 1 - Awakening on Far Shores**

The trilateral-limbed muddy-green looking aliens looked over the strange, iron and onyx object that had become unburied. It must have been during a mudslide from the _last _rains in the lush jungle of ferns and mosses. This had been known as a cursed place since anyone had remembered. It was even explained to the people from the stars.

They had just marked it on a map to check with their flying rafts. Such an interesting crater had probably been made by a meteorite over a thousand years ago in their minds.

But these unhuman siblings were not afraid of the warnings. Hopped up high on Mekoha, they felt invincible. They started to work with their pry bars at the edges with their three arms each. After seven long hours, with water starting to drip back down the washout, one of them hit something.

With a thundering boom of lightning, the huge, metal cask broke open just a flood of icy water roared down the gully. The two Medusans had only a moment to scramble for high land as the water hit, washing away everything. A pale hand was only visible for just a second.

Five miles later that hand caught a low hanging fern-like moss. Blue-green eyes stared into the wet gloom. "What a stench," she muttered. Someone had finally freed her? She dragged along the bottom of the spongy mass to higher ground, then set out to find a bit of shelter. But for the night she was cold and dreary in the lee of a land she did not recognize. She cataloged what she had, which was just the clothing on her back.

Dawn brought another cloudy day to her eyes, but something about the light did not look right. She was also seeing strange creatures that she was sure never existed on Earth. That caused her to frown as she skulked along the short mosses with a grace that even the local Medusans failed to note.

The bedraggled blonde headed to the nearest ridge to get a better view. At the top of the crest, she could just make out a few rough villages that reminded her vaguely of Native Americans due to the number of tents. It appears that the physics of tent building were fairly universal, as the wigwam-looking mounds gave off little trails of dark smoke.

She frowned at the furthest village across the flat valley on a low hill. There was a spire of metal with devices attached to it that she did not recognize. But they did not fit that location at all. Villages usually meant civilization of some sort and was better than just staying here. She started to snake through the peat moss and low ferns.

There were many more strange aliens in between her and that village, digging in the moss with a bronze-tipped pick-hoe of some sort, looking for edible insects and hiding creatures. The village probably only held up to five hundred, with a good portion much smaller in stature. The mosses had thinned out a little as children went about chores in stacking and chopping one of the many and varied types .

"Property of Manticore LTD.? In English? You have got to be kidding me," she murmured to herself. Walking out at an amble from behind one of the mounds that was one of their homes, she casually approached the antennae. And that's exactly what it was.

"Whatcha?" one of the Medusans asked.

"Just looking, if you don't mind. Ah, an emergency access hatch." It took her a few minutes to figure out how to get the panel to open (you had to hold the 'open' edge for three seconds and then it would slide.)

Unfortunately, she didn't look like she could do much other than cycle it on and off without some electronic tools that were more advanced than she had ever seen.

With an impish grin, she started to turn it on and off in a cyclic pattern.

* * *

Brian Jameston was a bit aggravated. Someone must be pulling a prank on him. Though slipping in a programmed timer on one of his relays up near the Mossyback Ridge was just petty. It was really little more than a transmitting weatherstation, but he had been sent by Mary to deal with the outage.

His battered old aircar landed in a field outside the Duqweig tribe. Strangely, he was not beset by the younger Medusans looking to see the 'alien' stranger to their world. His sturdy boot got some traction on the muddy moss plain and he saw something that sent a chill up his spine.

A young girl, probably no more than twelve or thirteen was wrestling with a native. Brian's hand dropped to his stunner, only to see the girl slap aside the trilaterlly symmetrical alien's nearest two arms, kick out the ankle of the nearest leg and send the Medusan sprawling.

"Fight good, you," the Medusan said as it struggled back to his feet.

The girl had a wide grin. "No hard feelings?" she asked in an archaic form of English.

Brian frowned at that. She sounded like she was speaking from an old holovid. He coughed, loudly, and caught a few of the natives attention.

"Brian? Girl... _shewrpta_ your tower of metal," the tribal chief Oomptra called out.

"She was probably just trying to get my attention. There was an emergency transmitter in there, you know." The crusty old handyman said with a scowl at the girl. "Where are your parents? And what the heck are you doing so far out in the wilds here?"

"I didn't see how to mess with anything other than the on/off switch," the girl admitted as she tried to futilely tried to wipe some mud off her cheeks. "I'm afraid I have no idea where my family is. Or even where I'm at."

"Well, come over to my aircar and we'll call over to the NPA and start to figure this out." This girl was going to be a headache, Brian decided. The Native Protection Agency was going to have conniptions over this.

* * *

The office Sheila was sitting in was obviously prefabbed, yet much more advanced than anything she had ever seen as it was perfectly comfortable inside with only a trace of odor. The computer screens were clear glass panels that rolled out of their base while a soft voice of a computer talked to Brian's boss at the trading compound, Mary Tailor.

She was a severe, older woman with gray hair wearing comfortable denim work clothes. It was obvious that this trade was for natives, as the most advanced thing she saw was some sort of plow or shovels.

"So how did you get to the outback of Medusa?" Mary asked with a flat frown.

"Medusa?" the younger girl asked.

"Yes, the planet Medusa. A protectorate of the Star Kingdom of Manticore. Someone has been criminally lax in losing you. I'm afraid that an official investigation is going to have to happen," the older woman said as she entered in information into her keypad.

"So you can get me back to Earth? And do you happen to have the date handy?" she asked curiously.

"From Old Earth itself? I'm surprised... And the date is 1900 P.D.," Mary replied as she considered the matter, trying to pull up her records.

"P.D.?" Sheila thought for a second. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that calender."

"I thought Earth used the Post Disporia calender?" A quick query on Mary's terminal and she had the conversion. "I guess its 4002 A.D."

"Two thousand _years_?" Sheila blurted out in shock. A shock that was just too great, as her eyes rolled up into her head and she fainted dead away.

* * *

"So that's the situation. The girl claims to be from Old Earth, but I suspect that is probably not the case until proven. I think she's confused and perhaps mentally distressed, so I'd like to look at transferring her the nearest clinic. It's possible she's fallen into someones hands and abused, though I can't see any wounds." Mary Tailor explained all of this, then shrugged her shoulders.

"I can certainly understand. I'd like to try and avoid any potential political fallout from having a Sollie hurt on planet. I can only imagine that someone would try to use it to pry myself or our Captain Harrington out of the system." Dame Estelle Matsuko frowned as she considered things. "Treat her with every courtesy, but I agree that she should be interviewed by Barney. This could be a kidnapping escapee that just dropped in our lap."

"I hadn't considered that possibility. So I'll get her transferred down to Dauguaar. That's our clinic up on the Three Forks. It's the closest clinic and from there it's not much more of a hop to the Enclaves if we need to move her again. Let me call Dauguaar Medical and I'll start the paperwork."

"Sounds like a plan, Mary. Thanks for bringing this to my attention. Have a good day," the commissioner for Medusa said before signing off.

Mary sighed at the Manticorian crest on the screen, then stood up to walk to the little emergency medical bay where Terrance was treating the young headache.

"Hello, Mrs. Tailor. Sorry for fainting there, that was rather shocking." The young girl Sheila looked very distraught over her situation.

"We're going to be transferring you to Dauguaar Medical. It's only about a half an hour flight. Terrance, can you ask Brian to run her there? We could use the supplies Demetri said he was going to lay out for the medical bay," Mary explained to the two.

"Sure. Come on, Sheila. You can follow me," the part time medic said. He led her outside and to the aircar garage where Brian was currently up to his elbows working on an engine. "Hey!"

Brian looked up, his cool gray eyes taking in the girl. "I guess I got picked to take little miss princess someplace." He wiped some purple lubricant off his hands.

Sheila scowled at him, but refrained from inflaming his opinion.

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Medical Translation**

Sheila guessed it was a nice enough clinic, she just did not like the insinuation that she was 'insane' for thinking she had been stuck in stasis for the last two thousand years. Everyone seemed to think she was soft in the head, which was almost driving her to throw the first tantrum since she had been six years old.

Currently she was laying in a bed with little sensors attached to her head reading up on 'current' events, which was actually an electronic download of several history books worth of Anti Disporia knowledge. Doctor Eliza Blaine, her attending physician, had been in a few times, but had found no wounds or other trauma that could explain her story... other than she was lying.

Dr. Blaine was surveying her elevated brainwave activity. As far as he could tell, she should be nearly suffering a seizure of some sort, but she was perfectly content, just reading her books at a fairly fast, if not quite super-fast speed.

Suddenly, there was the sound of shouts and calls for the doctor.

Sheila stuck her head out to look down the hall, seeing one of the Medusans being laid out on stretcher and moved to a bed. It appeared he was in very bad shape and babbling.

"Mekoha poisoning?" one of the nurses called out.

"Yes, looks like it is pretty advanced. Anyone make out what he is saying?" Blaine asked even as they started to tie the native down. "Someone get a translator, ASAP."

"He's talking about how the infidels will be blasted-destroyed from the holy lands thanks to the... uh... protectors-haven that has brought them the holy enlightenment and weapons." Sheila listened for a little bit. "Now he's asking for his wife-mate. Now he's starting to go over the first part again, saying that a priest has promised them unlimited Mekoha if they help drive the monsters from the southern city-states."

"I thought you were from Earth?" one of the medics asked in stupefaction.

"I was stuck in that outback area, so I picked up a bit of their language. I have a very profound gift for languages," she replied blandly. It was usually better to downplay her supernatural gifts and they really did not need to know she could learn a language in just minutes of talking to someone. Reading and writing it took the normal amount of time, but she was still able to pick up whole languages in just weeks even then. "Hmm. He's talking about how the foriegn stinger-monsters will be killed by the time of Trajuden."

One of the doctors had pulled out his traveling pouch, frowning as he pulled out several items. "Ball bearings?"

"Looks more like a rifle shot for a musket, actually." Sheila took one lead ball and sniffed it. "Black powder. I thought the natives were at bronze-level technology?"

"I think we need to bring in the NPA in now," Blaine said carefully. "Keep writing down what he is saying."

Sheila shrugged. This was the most excitement she had since she had woken up in this time. Hopefully this was not everything to it.

* * *

Barney Isvarian was not terribly thrilled, but the information was possibly too critical. Finding out the Medusans had hundreds of these high powered, rifled muskets was enough to give him nightmares, especially after the disaster of the attack on the Mekoha lab. He rubbed at his too weary eyes fitfully.

His assistant opened the door to his crowded office and called out, "Sheila Henderson to see you."

"Thanks, Clyde. Appreciate that. Miss Henderson... I'd heard about you, of course. Young girls usually don't just show up out into the wilderness like that. Baroness Medusa personally informed me of your situation. Luckily, we should be able to get you back to Earth in just a few weeks." He shrugged at her questioning look. "We're just trying to find a reputable Solarian League or Manticorian freighter. But what I need to ask you about is what you supposedly got out of the Medusan. Because that's got the potential for real problems."

"It sounds like an attack on the off-world enclaves. I _think_ someone miss-translated Manticore to them as a stinger-monster, because they don't have any profound understanding of human mythology." Sheila had to grin at that one. She herself had faced off against monster that most people only dreamed existed.

"That actually makes sense. So you speak their language? That's supposed to be hard to do," he noted. And shouldn't be possible without books from Manticore.

"I'm a bit of a hobbyist linguist. I speak about six languages fairly well. And they understood some English," she explained.

"That would make it easier. And with only two weeks... I have got to talk to the baroness. Would you mind hanging out in Clyde's office?"

Sheila stood up and walked back out, reading a news article on a portable pad.

It was only twenty minutes later and Barney came back out. "All right, come on with me. We've got to talk to the baroness... then we shall see about verifying your story a little closer."

The young hero shrugged and followed him out.

* * *

"This is neat! And you called this a pinnace? And it uses gravity stress-bands to pull the ship along while an inertial sump dampens the force of the acceleration?" Sheila chattered along about a day later.

"You are acting like you've never been in space before," Barney said as he rolled his eyes. He never enjoyed space travel himself. And she had to have gotten to Medusa by a shuttle or pinnace just like this.

"I haven't. So this is entirely new to me." She had her nose pressed up against the window as a massive space ship was being approached. "Is that _Fearless_?" It looked like a spindle with with rectangular 'hammer-head' at each end.

"Right. While they don't have a intelligence specialist, they want to go over everything while I discuss our plans to deal with with this attack." Barney was really glad that the Navy was here, as there extra marines were going to be very, very handy when it came to any heavy fighting.

He watched her closely out of the corner of his eyes as they landed in the aft docking bay and they were sealed together. "Careful with the switch to gravity at the red warning signs," the NPA leader said as he landed softly on the deck plat outside the hatch of the pinnace.

She landed easily, though it looked a little awkward. Sheila had never been more thankful for her supernatural agility. "You can't see outside much, can you?" she noted as she looked around.

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Isvarian. And this is the young lady who has scrambled things up a little?" a furry contralto asked. Honor Harrington studied the young-looking girl even as she felt Nimitz, her tree-cat companion tense up and then dug his claws into her shoulder pad.

Something was upsetting Nimitz very severely, but he was not radiating anger or of danger... but rather wariness.

"Sheila Henderson, ma'am." The young girl's blue-green eyes were studying the creature on her shoulder rather intently. "I seem to have upset him?"

"We still don't really understand his race' tele-empathetic abilities, other than to know they actually exist. I'm going to have you go over the information you gleaned from the dying Medusan with my XO Lt. Commander McKeon while I discuss some matters with Mr. Isvarian." With a small gesture, she had the NPA administrator follow her along.

"Miss Henderson, if you could accompany me?" the tall man in the officer's uniform asked.

Sheila sighed, as it looked like she was going to be undergoing yet another 'debriefing' which was a polite, non-violent interrogation in all but name. Mentally, she grinned. It appeared that she was falling into a fateful event.

She was _not _very happy to discover that she was confined to the ship and her quarters. It appeared that she was at least slightly suspected of being in collusion with the insurgency happening on the planet.

* * *

"So what do you think of our guest, Alistair?" Honor asked her XO in her office.

"She seems to just be a bright young girl that has fallen into the thick of it. Her medical records confirm that she has not had the prolong treatment and shows no signs of plastic surgery. In fact, she's just been inoculated against all the current batch of bugs," he replied. "I could not get her to trip up on her story outside of normal statistics."

"Did she seem to be unhappy about being confined to quarters tonight?" the younger, though more senior, officer asked in her calm way.

"Not unduly. I guess she understood our concern that she could be a ringer. So our marines are set up to drop at a moment's notice to help the NPA stamp out this 'uprising'?" Alistair asked curiously.

"Yes. They are going to be sending out an aircar to overfly the region the Medusan was from, to see if they can spot any encampments out there. I'm still a bit worried about _Sirius_, though. We should be in position to get a hard sensor reading on her nodes in about an hour," the captain admitted. Damn Pavel Young for his complacency in just signing off on the paperwork without actually boarding the freighter. With that, she sent off her second in command, as he had his own duties.

An hour later, they had more questions than answers, as it was apparent that Sirius was nothing of a standard freighter, but most likely some sort of Q-Ship _with_ hot nodes. The next day passed quite intensely as the marines were ready to drop at a moment's notice and hot bunked on the three pinnaces.

Both of the officers had momentarily forgotten about their guest when the flag went up. The natives were out of control and swarming towards the city-states to the far south; armed to the teeth with rifled muskets. The marines were launched rapidly while Sirius took off post-haste in an 'emergency' state. Honor then 'accidentally' damaged the Havenite's courier by blowing their impellers with her suicidally close brush and then took off in pursuit of the ship.

The _Fearless_ took off after the enemy ship to force them to stand down. Down in her 'guest' quarters, Sheila frowned as the battlestations alarms were blaring. Waiting until they had faded, she tried to com anyone. It was over fifteen minutes later that she finally got a response from Ensign Prescott Tremaine. The young officer actually only looked a few years older than herself. "Miss Henderson? I'm coming in." The young officer entered, carrying a suitcase of equipment. He was wearing a fairly form-fitting spacesuit that she had learned was called a skinsuit.

Sheila was sitting on her bunk, trying to look very unthreatening. "I heard the battlestations alarm, and I felt some sort of vibration in the deck. Are we under way?"

"Yes, miss. And the captain wishes to apologize profusely, as she did not mean to leave you aboard a ship that is now going to enter battle. We should have moved you to a shuttle, but it slipped Lt. Commander McKeon's mind and now it is quite impossible. The shuttles just don't have the range of a ship or pinnace. I've been sent down here to make sure you understand how to use this vacuum suit. It's not as good as a skinsuit, but we'll have to make do." He shrugged in apology again.

Learning how to work it (and its plumbing connections) was a painful and embarrassing experience, but she was soon wearing the bulky outfit.

"Once again, ma'am, I do apologize. We'll try to end this peacefully, but _Sirius_ is not responding to our hails except to 'flee' at top speed. So this may get more than a bit rough." With that, Prescott saluted and then left to go to his other duties.

Sheila frowned and then went to re-read the emergency manual on her spacesuit.

* * *

The ship rumbled from something shook the ship. Sheila tried to ignore it, until minutes later everything seemed to heave and the wall away from the doorway suddenly deformed as something fractured and slammed into it. She was slamming her helmet down, even as the room decompressed.

Red warning lights flared on the spacesuit's heads up display, showing that she was losing pressure. That was easy to see, as blood was spraying out a wound on her hip. The emergency tape for fixing her suit was in her hands and clumsily (for her, anyways) taping it closed.

The occasional shaking of the ship as more and more hits piled up. _Fearless_ shook as it fought an overwhelming battle against a much tougher foe, as the _Sirius _actually had the firepower of a battlecruiser, if not the tough design of one. Gravity finally failed before someone checked the occupancy of her quarters.

The skinsuited petty officer flashed a light across the room, to see someone in an emergency spacesuit. "Hello?" he called out on the emergency frequency.

"I take it the fighting is over, one way or the other?" the girl's voice responded. "I'm not sure how much air my suit is good for, as I had to patch a hit on my leg."

"Oh, damn. You're the Sollie that the captain brought aboard? Why didn't the have you leave with a shuttle? Come on, I'll tell Chief Wilson that you're wounded."

"It's not too bad and I taped up the damaged part, but I think I missed a small cut somewhere." Sheila followed along behind him, passing work crews headed to another damage station. It was quite disconcerting to travel in zero-g in a barely lit environment, but her acute senses and sense of space stood her in good standing.

"Chief! I found our guest. She's wounded and needs to be checked out, as she took a hit and had to seal her suit."

Muretta Wilson looked up as the words filtered through her tired and fogged up brain. "Montoya is still in surgery, but we've got the sickbay pressurized and gravity back on there to about half a G."

"I'll escort her up," the enlisted sailor declared.

The travel up three levels and into a gravity area did not take long. A temporary air lock had been set up. Once they were inside, he took off as the cries of the wounded filled the cramped bay. Sheila unsealed her helmet and breathed the heavier, brackish air. "Thanks, Penton."

"God speed, ma'am." He was gone back to throw himself into his work.

"I told them to handle the walking wounded. Why aren't you in your skin suit?" the surgeon said as his assitant looked up.

"I don't have one, as I'm a civilian, sir," she called back. "I'm not badly hurt. I can at least help with first aid."

Montoya blinked and then realized where he had seen her before. She was the _child_ that they had brought aboard with the sketchy background and supposed information on the native uprising that had been engineered. "Are you sure? We should probably check you out-" he started to say.

"Don't worry about me. I'm actually a lot tougher than I appear." She gave him an impish grin. She frowned as she looked over the nearest wounded. Without her owl necklace though, she would not be healing anyone.

Montoya was surprised two hours later as she helped keep two of his most wounded from bleeding out. She seemed to be able to hear their labored heart and detected where the emergency stitching had failed.

Two days later, when they were finally able to limp back close enough to Medusa to signal the Manticorian Home Fleet for much needed assistance. Captain Honor Harrington was putting together a side party with one very odd young girl in attendance. Her treecat was sitting on her shoulder, watching the scion in incredible intensity.

"Admiral Sir Thomas Caparelli arriving," the bosun called out as the hatch opened. The electronic bugle sounded out as the stout admiral flipped to the gravity landing with long.

"Captain Harrington, it's good to see you. It seems you set off a landmine in front of everyone this time. And for good reason," the stout, yet tall man said as he saluted. "This is Lt. Commander Fortes with the Office of Naval Intelligence. He's here to take your young charge off your hands."

"Thank you, admiral. Lt. Commander, as a personal request I would ask that you treat Miss Henderson quite kindly, as she has helped save at least four of my crew. We owe her a profound apology for getting her hurt in a situation she should never have been involved in." Honor's furry contralto conveyed nothing but her sincerity.

"I'll see what I can do. From what I have heard, she helped uncover this operation." Fortest was a shorter man, thin almost to a sickly level for pale blonde hair.

Surgeon Lt. Montoya stepped up and saluted. "I'd like to offer my personal thanks to her, too. She really chipped in for a civilian."

"I'll see to it," Caparelli promised. "Miss Henderson, if you would accompany Commander Fortes?"

That helped get her released and sent to Manticore with only a minimun of fuss.

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Integration**

Landing, Planet Manticore.

Sheila was lugging a small suitcase behind her to her temporary lodgings in a fairly spartan motel almost three hundred stories up in the contra-gravity tower. The gigantic buildings were a bit of a shock as they were over a thousand meters wide and almost two kilometers tall, but she understood the need. The room was actually fairly large and comfortable, but did not have a real window. She was just opening her suitcase when there was a chime at the door.

She went over, checking the little security camera, frowning when she saw a Solarian League naval captain with long, dark hair in a pony tail. "Hello?" she asked as she keyed open the door. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh.' You certainly kicked over a hornets nest, didn't you?" the woman said with a small smile.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Sheila said carefully.

"That's right, you were taken hostage before you got very fully involved in the Second Titan's War. I'm your older sister, Britannia. I've been directed to explain that you can not return to Earth. Part of the deal that Sly Lokison dealt to the Pantheons was that you were to never return to Earth... upon pain of death... for his help in binding the Greater Titans again."

Sheila was thinking very fast and furiously. "So Loki's son has learned of a prophecy that has me in the starring role of killing him?"

"Quick on the uptake. That's what we surmise, but we had thought you dead or imprisoned someplace where no human or god could find you. Which appears to be a backwater planet with its own, non-human gods," Britannia explained with a tight smile.

"So, will Earth formally declare that I've been exiled upon pain of death? And what of my school records? I'd rather not have to entirely do my education over," Sheila asked. High school had been a torture at nine years old. "Can I at least get enough backing to get into the school of my choice on Manticore?"

"That's all been handled, just as we expected you to demand. The least we can do in this case. I'm sure it will bring up more questions, but that really isn't my problem." With that, the Goddess of Britain disappeared in between one eye blink and another.

"Dammit, mother. Couldn't you have informed me in person? Or did you even survive the last war?" With that, Sheila flung herself on her back to lay on the large bed, next to her suitcase. She needed a plan.

She got back up and quickly and efficiently emptied her suitcase of the bare essentials of clothing and hygiene. Then she turned to the work desk, familiarizing herself with the computer systems. "Holotank on. Search, historical documentaries concerning Earth and Anti-Disporia four hundred years to present." Behind her, the holo tank system turned on, starting to play the current version of the History Channel.

That was where she was three hours later when her door chimed again. "Holo tank pause," she called out, heading to the door. "Baroness Medusa! This is a surprise."

The noble nodded her head at Sheila quick curtsey. "I'm back her conferring with her Majesty about the Medusan situation. As you are still under my guardianship until tomorrow morning, I thought I'd drop by on my way home to see how you are doing?"

"I'm fine, milady. I've just received some distressing news from Earth. It appears I may have to seek asylum here, so I'm looking at educational options for a very young and out of work college graduate with incredibly aged skills." She shrugged and then led her over to the small chairs.

"The timing on that is impossible. Earth should just be hearing about the Medusa incident," Estelle said after a long moment. Earth was about ten days in hyperspace... both ways. The Basilisk incident had just happened only eleven days ago.

"They must have used a seer. I've been exiled from Earth upon pain of death. Though it looks like they were nice enough to send my transcript records from the University of Illinois and Berkeley. So at least I'll have my bachelors. I probably will need to bone up on modern technology and techniques. I'm pretty sure my medical degree is completely out of date. At least the mathematics on my engineering degree-"

The noble coughed slightly. "I thought you were only twelve?"

"About twelve and a half." Sheila gave the older woman a considering look. "I graduated from the University of Illinois about six month ago (to me) with a degree in mathematics, engineering and internal medicine. I never had the opportunity to intern. I was also working on my political science and history degrees."

"I take it that was not very normal for someone your age," the baroness mused. A child genius with that sort of ability would make headlines anywhere. Of course, it could be totally untrue.

"No, I was a bit of a prodigy and my family pushed me very hard to excel. A normal schooling would be counter productive to me, I believe."

"Interesting. I expect to hear interesting things from you. I had better head off."

Sheila showed her to the door, then went right back to her studying.

* * *

The haggard public servant hit the caller button on the motel room door. It was opened promptly by the young girl he had come here to see. "Sheila Henderson? I'm Martin Bradwick, from the consul of foreign services for the Queen."

"Mr. Bradwick, please come in," she replied brightly and politely. She gestured him over to the small desk with two uncomfortable looking chairs.

"If you could explain this paperwork that we received from the Solarian League concerning yourself. We're not even sure how they knew of your situation, much less sent such exacting paperwork." Martin took a deep breath. "In fact, they seem to state preposterious impossibilities."

"Let me guess... that I was born hundreds of years before even the first slowship left Earth or even cryogenics were invented. That I was emancipated with a full college education, then a litany of strange inquiries dealing with exploding cars and houses?" Sheila asked with an arched eyebrow. "And that I am somehow Persona Non Grata on Earth and possibly even the Solarian League?"

The civil servant blinked as he took it all in. "In slightly stronger terms. They stated that you have been exiled upon pain of death, with the signature of the standing President of the United Nations of Earth." He noted her tightening the muscles in her jaw and her neck.

"Yes, that's what I was told of last night. It appears a deal was cut and I was the price for a peace for my family," Sheila said in an short manner, her strange accent causing it to be hard to understand her. "Will Manticore accept me as a political exile?"

"Yes. My superior has no problem with that. I'm not sure we'll honor the emancipation. We may have to have you take a competency test and attend a hearing. Then we can look at some options to get you situation and into school." Martin leaned back as his dark eyes studied her even more closely.

"I have some ideas, but I'll need to see about getting my high school equivalency. I'm not sure I want to get back into college, so I may look at alternate post-schooling options. I have a lot of time to catch up on," she mused as she seemed to sink into the uncomfortable chair.

"I've set up a doctor's visit. He'll probably have you undergo the second generation prolog treatment. You are barely young enough for that and it's standard to all Manticorian citizens." Martin stood up and slicked back his slightly curly hair into a damp mat on his head. "So I suppose I'll be seeing you tomorrow. Here's a credit chit for food."

"Thank you," she replied.

* * *

Sheila was very happy to be out of her room. The transport system seemed very logical and she had planned her trip accordingly. Ten minutes later she was exiting the six-axis elevator that had taken her down to the ground level. It was only a short walk to a massive and fairly forbidding building that stated itself as Roger High School.

The polished stone walls had large banners dedicated to a dance that was upcoming. The office had large rows of windows that showed the lines inside for the staff to see out into the main foyer.

"Can I help you?" a middle-aged man behind a counter said.

"Yes, I have an appointment to take the General Equivalency?" the young girl explained with a query.

"Well, you are the only one we're testing right now. So Ursas will accompany you. The test should take about eight hours," the office worker explained.

Lou Ursas then took her down a hall to a locked door and into a testing room with twenty computer stations. After about ten minutes of instructions (which he noted she followed very closely) he left her to it. He sat at the overseer desk in the corner to maintain his supervision. He had barely sat down when he frowned at the speed which with she was inputting the information on the mathematics test. He checked the rooms sensors, but did not detect any signals. Cheating with a portable computer was very easy to do sometimes, which meant that they had to watch for it closely. With a shrug, he activated the recorders.

Thirty minutes later he frowned as she started her English comprehension course. That went even faster. After that she was into mechanical and electronic engineering, which she slightly slowed down. By this time, Lou had already flagged for assistance in monitoring. By the end, even the Dean of the school was keeping abreast of what was occurring in Test Room 3.

Five hours later, Lou was looking at her records. They were not _quite_ perfect, but they were better than he had seen of students that had dropped out and needed the Equivalency to get a job. He stood up as she finished. "I'm quite impressed, that's a fairly good score."

"I'm sure I didn't know at least six percent of the questions," she grumbled. "But I only had a few days to bone up on a basic education."

"A few... days?" Lou asked curiously.

She shrugged. "You've got my com code to send my results?"

"That's correct. Let me see you out," the school officer said, escorting her to the main entrance. "Well, I guess I won't be seeing you in the fall for school then."

"Thanks," she replied with a grin. She sent a glance over at the military recruitment office as she ambled towards the doors. Turning, she hit the admittance bell when she saw a few officers at their desks. "Hello."

"Ah, a junior? Come on in and we can explain how you can see the galaxy," the short, broad man behind the desk. "Sgt. Klein at your service."

"I actually graduated from high school about two years ago," she said with a shrug, specifically not mentioning her age.

"Really? Third generation prolong, I take it? Well, anyways what are you interested in?" the sergeant asked.

"The navy actually. My mother was in the military back on Earth, so I kind of feel obligated to follow in her steps a bit. Can I look over the requirements for entering the service? My paperwork for my asylum should be processing soon and I'd like to get in as quickly as possible." At his questioning look, she continued as she sat on the edge of his desk. "I've been exiled from my planet of birth, so I'm looking for a post education option in my life."

"Well, the basic Navy requirement isn't too high. You have to have at least a degree to enter the officer program. What sort of education do you have?" Signing up an officer, even for another branch, would net him a good bonus. So Alvin Klein was quite happy.

"I've got several bachelors degrees. Political Science, Internal Medicine, History and Mathematical Engineering," she explained carefully.

Klein whistled at that. "Well, let's get started on your paperwork."

* * *

Waiting rooms had not really changed in the several thousand years, Sheila discovered. She slouched in the fairly comfortable leather-feeling couch while listening to a newshead on a holo tank that was complaining about the Manticorian Navy's actions that had led to the destruction of the Sirius. Sheila snorted at his commentary. If he had been there, he would not be nearly as forgiving in her opinion.

"Sheila? The doctor will see you," a voice called out, directing her to a door.

A small floating droid led her down to an examination room to start a battery of tests by the medical assistants and two doctors.

"I thought your medical file said you had been immunized at Medusa?" Dr. Roberts asked, frowning a bit which made her face look cute.

"I was." Sheila considered that. She had never thought about being immune to immunization, though conversely it made sense as most Scions were immune to 'mortal' diseases. "My immune system is really efficient," she said evasively.

"Well, we can't give you a second dose of those for two more months, but we really need to get your Prolong treatment set up." The doctor looked up to give her a quick smile. "It's a general out patient procedure, we'll just need to have a check up in a few months to see how the process worked out."

"Of course." Would her immunity to normal diseases affect this treatment, Sheila wondered to herself even as several injections were administered.

The rest was just paperwork, filling in the spaces and crossing the T's and dotting the I's. Once she was finished she took the elevator down to the ground level and started jogging back the three miles from the clinic she had been referred to. As she moved through the light foot traffice, she tried to gauge her own body. She pushed back the bitter thought of the Prolong treatment failing and herself aging just like any other normal person.

Her jaw clenched as she considered that, then pushed her worries back. She was not fully mortal, after all. The daughter of Athena Parthenos and her will could do amazing things. She tried to force her body to accept the new 3rd generation treatment. The ichor within her body pulsed and pounded as she felt the slight burn of exertion; the black and infinite colored blood of her divine spark flared.

And it responded, though it would take her over a decade to realize her youthful folly, as her aging just _stopped_.

* * *

Martin Bradwick was perplexed about this case. Like he had told Sheila a week ago, Manticore was more than happy to accept her request for asylum. He just had no idea what the bright, young twelve year old girl lost in time had done to deserve such treatment from Old Earth. He hit the buzzer on the hotel room door. Normally he would just phone over, but he had official paperwork that had to be witnessed.

"Mr. Bradwick! A pleasure to see you again," the girl said with a stunning smile. "Come on in, of course." Somehow she made the fairly generic slacks and T-shirt that she was still forced to wear look reasonably good.

"Well, I have good news for you, as it appears your requests are mostly being granted. I'm not sure how I feel about your emancipation, but your testing showed a fairly high degree of adult thinking. Your equivalency testing scores were frankly amazing. If there had not been direct, physical oversight on your testing, their would have been calls to have you retested. The scores weren't perfect, but they were much higher than expected." Bradwick frowned as he pulled up a last list. "Now this is quite odd. You want to join the Navy?"

"That's correct. From what I can see, I should be capable of it. I'm emancipated and physically in the same bracket as most of the prospective students," Sheila explained. That had been a lucky break, as there had been a legal precedent set up for 3rd generation prolong recipients who were physically at her stage of physical development. It was actually illegal to refuse entry to someone based on their physical-appearing age. And her ability to do the actual entry-level athletics was incredibly simple for her.

"I think you are going to be the youngest student in decades, but that's going to be for the review board. Though I'm wondering how you got Lord Hudson to sign off promoting you for the officers course," the civil servant said as he slid over a pad for her to 'sign' across the small motel table. He had to grin as he saw her start to go through the legal papers, paging through the information at a rapid pace. "That actually has some of the Admiralty looking at your paperwork very closely."

"Well, I've always been a bit of a prodigy," she said absently. "Hmm. This says if I can pass the basic physicals of boot camp, I can gain a late entry to Saganami. I think I'd like to do that."

"Well, then... I guess I'll get an aircar taxi rented so you can get there." Bradwick shook his head as the pure, blinding speed that she had broken through red tape at multiple levels.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Um, sure." They shook on it and he checked over the paperwork. "I see you are planning on becoming a full citizen. Well, I hope you are able to succeed, Miss Henderson."

"I will, Mr. Bradwick. That's a promise."

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Academy Beginnings**

Sheila stepped out of the automated taxi, wincing at the cost she had incurred as she looked around the pre-dawn campus. They were fairly spartan, even as she took in the massive central tower. That seemed to be something of a norm, to build as tall as possible. Of course, you could fit an awful lot of people in a building that was a thousand feet square and over two thousand feet tall (even if slightly hollow). And with the addition of aircar garages at convenient levels, the problem of too many elevators was slightly curtailed. The fact that they were like the Star Trek lifts that could slip around each other probably helped immensely.

She walked across the grass quad to the visitors entrance, interrupting to petty officers behind the counter as they talked about a 3D drama. The young woman smiled at her. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm trying to be admitted. I guess they have a physical assessment test this morning for people going through boot camp and I'm willing to attempt it to get into Saganami as quickly as possible," Sheila explained.

"And the rest of your luggage?" the petty officer asked concisely as she brought up the records. "Ah, there you are Sheila. Let me send a message to the training officer and I'll have a remote show you the way. His name is Chief Oslo."

"This is everything I own. I'm a bit of a political exile so I don't have anything else," Sheila noted as a very small drone floated up.

"Then you are set. Be back here so we can have you go through some aptitude tests and placement."

Sheila nodded and started to trot off. Best to get there quickly. The drone led her at a rapid pace, adjusting to her speed. Sheila just made it to the barracks where her trainer was just exiting.

"Well, at least you can run," the mahogany-skinned, thickly muscled man chief petty officer called out. His head was quite shaved and almost shiny. "Leave your luggage with the warden." He did not appear to be happy to see her.

Sheila caught up to the group of teen-looking midshipmens, falling into place. They hit a storehouse which outfitted them all with backpacks and she was given a uniform to change into right there, which totally mortified her. She had read up on the service and that it was fully co-ed with little nudity taboos given credence.

"All right, you slugs. You are going on a thirty kilometer hike up to Farton Hill. At that point, those of you that have not quit, you will be do a battery of physical tests until you _puke_. Do you understand me?" CPO Oslo shouted. "Now move out."

He led the way up the hill, jogging easily at the front of the fifty candidates.

After ten kilometers, he was unsurprised when an overweight kid wanted a break. He jogged back to the worried and panting Hispanic kid. "If you stop, you wash out and get to do basic training over. Do you understand, maggot?" Oslo shouted.

"Yes, sir!" he replied.

After another two kilometers the kid dropped off, admitting defeat much to Oslo's disdain. Three more dropped out after the twenty kilometer mark. His dark brown eyes studied the girl at the very far back wearing a slightly too loose outfit. Sheila was barely sweating and was scanning the area more like a trained solider than a candidate for a naval academy.

At the top of the hill, all of the candidates were breathing heavily except for Sheila. Oslo trotted up to her. "You, miss, will be the first through the obstacle course."

"If you wouldn't mind telling me the course really quick, sir. I would not want to fail because I did not understand the path, sir!" she shouted right back.

"Well, son of a bitch. You actually got a brain and _some_ guts, girl. Very well, this course is U-shaped and passes the sensor building down about a kilometer and then ends right over there," he said, pointing towards two metal posts about two hundred feet away. "On your mark, get set... go!"

As obstacle courses went, this was fairly standard. You had to crawl under wire, then climb a wall, slosh through a muddy pond on the far side, navigate a rope bridge, swinging bars and then trot through fake tires (which Sheila assumed was because rubber tires were not actually used these days) in staggered patterns.

Oslo's expression was comical from where he was sending his fifth officer candidate to begin the course. But she was now in the hands of a older and even more tough looking petty officer with the name Savaro at the end of the course.

"Drop and give me a hundred pushups," Savaro shouted at the end of the line. She nodded appreciatively as the girl moved out of the end course and started her push-ups with no problem. She nodded again as the girl called them out. "All right, a hundred sit-ups." After that, she had Sheila stand at attention. "Well, you actually are something. You pass the physical. In fact, you might have set a record."

Sheila frowned at that as she had held back a bit there. She moved to sit in the shade as about three-quarters of the class passed.

Oslo and Savaro rounded everyone up, doling out very small praise. "You all finally passed. The only one here that I'm actually impressed with is our newest midshipwoman, who broke the top record by five seconds. You from a high gravity world, Henderson?"

"No, sir. I'm from Earth." She was at stiff attention, though had not allowed her knees to lock.

"Earth? Well, I guess that does rule that out," Oslo said with a smirk. "You are all released to grab some grub. Make sure to pass off your pack to the quartermaster."

They all shouted, "Yes, sir!" and then headed over to wait for a hover ATV.

"Savaro? I'm supposed to head back to processing for some aptitude testing. Should I head out to do that now?" she asked curiously.

"I'll let Oslo know."

* * *

Sheila dragged herself to her new spartan quarters in the evening; a room she was sharing with a short, dark-haired girl that only looked just a year or two older than her. "Hello," she called out as she greeted her new roomie. "I'm Sheila."

"Daria Golds," the other girl called out. "I see they decided to inflict another roomie on me." She did not appear very pleased with the change in her situation. "I'm in first form, just started two months ago."

"I just started today, so I'm behind the curve. But I'm not one for wasting time," she replied impishly. "I have the right bunk?" She keyed in her personal code and slid in her locker.

"You passed the basic physical?" Daria asked her curiously.

"I'm a runner, so that marathon really wasn't too tough for me," the blonde explained easily. She smoothed her simple black midshipwoman's uniform and then slipped off the black beret.

"Well, that would make it easier. The hill is really designed to grind you down."

Sheila gave her a considering look. "That's a Landing accent, correct?"

"Right. I can't place your own accent though." And that intrigued the girl, obviously.

"Ah, I'm from Old Earth. And just out of stasis, so my accent is very old," she replied airily. "So what officer track are you looking at?"

"Probably engineering. And you?" Daria asked politely.

"I believe I can pull off the tactical track." In fact, Sheila was pretty sure she could actually succeed at any of them, but for her plans she could not be shackled to a station repairing ships for 30 years.

"That's a fast way to get killed in the war everyone knows is coming," the other girl snorted as she went back to her reading on a portable pad.

"I thought they said a war was unlikely?" Sheila pulled out her own reading and picked up where she had been working on the military code.

"The People's Republic has been expanding in this direction for decades. With them having grabbed San Martinos, they've bumped against us a bit. And the wormhole junction is a unique resource that could help their money problems." The dark-haired girl shrugged without looking up.

"Yeah, I've just started updating myself with hyperdimensional math. The wormhole junction looks like a very interesting exploration of theory into real life." That was what she was currently reading at this point.

* * *

Honor Harrington stepped out of the gravlift and to the ATC Commandant's floor. Admiral Raoul Courvosier's personal assistant let her in immediately.

"Admiral Courvosier, I'm glad I could get down here as quickly as possible. I'm afraid _Hephaestus_is going to just pile on the bad news about the _Fearless_, but I want to be there in person when they do." Honor shook hands with her old teacher.

"It's sad when they do, but I've heard rumors that if they do, there will be another _Fearless_ fairly fast," the small, balding man said with a small, sad smile. "I actually wanted to talk to you in person about someone you advocated even as you handed her over to the Office of Naval Intelligence for a debriefing."

"Sheila Henderson? As far as I could tell, she just happened to be a civilian ended up in the thick of that mess." Honor frowned as she sat down in the leather chair across from the admiral's desk. The stunning vista of Jason's Bay could be seen far below. "Actually, I think Baroness Medusa mentioned something that she was seeking asylum, but that was a few weeks ago." And why would a commandant of Saganami be curious?

"The reason, which I can see you are so curious about, is that Miss Henderson gained her asylum and entered Saganami in what is probably the greatest failure of red tape outside of martial law," Raoul said with an impish grin.

"A late entry? I suppose that is possible during the fitness portion. Not everyone passes that in the first month," Honor noted aloud. "So she is she going through the boot camp portion to enter the academy?"

"No, she passed that on the first day, breaking the old men's record by five seconds. So the marine detachment is a trifle upset that she wants to be a vacuum head. Not that he would use that term with myself."

"That's... impressive. I take it you want to watch her closely?" The young captain was quite intrigued indeed.

"Yes, and to get your insight onto her character. From everything I've heard from her teachers and fellow students, she has a mind like a trap and is amazingly perceptive. Well, I guess you don't have a lot to add, so how about an invitation to the officer's dining room?" The cherubic admiral stood up and gestured to the door.

"I'd be delighted, admiral!" It would be nice to reconnect with her mentor.

* * *

Sheila followed the taller students ahead of her. It had finally leaked out to the rest of the midshipmen just how young Sheila actually was. There had been a few hazing attempts that had ended badly... for the bullies in question. According to the other first years students, she must have eyes in the back of her head. None of the bruised and battered bullies believed her when she said she was from Old Earth either, thinking she must be from a heavy gravity world somewhere.

The entrance into the Introduction to Multi-Dimensional Mathematics class was fairly loud. Most of the students were older, but there were a few seventeen year olds that were playfully shoving up against each other. There was an actual window view of the rolling hills as the sun was rising. She headed up to the front where the teacher was pulling up his class notes on his station. "Mr. Borgea? I was wondering if I could get some hints on a project I'm working on?"

"What sort of project?" the balding man asked.

"I was looking to try my hand at mapping out the wormhole junction using the original survey information and only using the techniques pioneered on the previous wormholes," she explained as she showed her display pad. "I'm trying to avoid reading how the team did it, but I think I'm reaching a road block."

"There must be something wrong, you have two too many termini," Borgea noted as he scritched his short, groomed beard.

"I think that parts right, but I don't have detailed enough information to refine with my calculations. I asked Ramius Fulton about the possiblity of other terminus points and he said it was possible, if unlikely that we could define them at this point," Sheila noted as she mentioned one of the Fourth Term students that would be shortly shipping out on his Middie cruise.

"Let me take a look at your original data then," the teacher asked. As he pulled up the information, he frowned. "This doesn't look right. The gravity stress fracture information is far too crude. And you got that information... Oh, I see. This is the preliminary survey from the 15th century. You need to get the Warshiwinski reading from the 16th century just before the first wormhole to Beowulf was discovered." Borgea had the information set up and sent to her. "You seem to have some interesting thoughts on the math, so I'd like to see what you get finally."

"It'll be a week until I can get some time on a main-frame to run the calculations, but this information should allow for a lot greater detail. I think it will show at least one more wormhole, though a second one could just be an echo (so to speak) of the bad data."

"Perfect. Take your seat, I do have a class to run." He grinned at the girl.

The rest of the class was dreadfully dull, as Sheila finished the astrogation chart and course within ten minutes. That left her the rest of the period to work on her project. The bell rang and she headed to one of her physical education classes. This semester, she was going to be in the fencing course.

After a quick change, she ended up in the line facing their teacher with all of the midshipmen. Out of the corner of her left eye, she saw one of the upper years (who was almost thirty years old) that she vaguely remembered was named Fredrick Grant of Gryphon. She hid a frown, as it appeared that in the last two days he had gained six inches (which he was trying to hide with slouching) and his muscles were much more heavily defined.

And that indicated to her a magical change. Probably ichor from either a Jotun, a Norse giant, or from a Norse god. Unhappily, she considered the fact that either one would likely want her dead. So this was likely to end in bloodshed.

The instructor was splitting the students up by skill brackets, where Sheila was ending up in the third top brackets already. "Sheila and... fine, Fredrick."

They both took their positions with the fencing sabers that were the standard swords. Sheila sighed as she saw the cruel gleam. "This not going to end well."

That seemed to surprise Fredrick, but he really did not care that much. He lashed out with his brutish strength, only to be surprised when she met his blade with a clatter, though did not fully match his size and strength.

The clash of swords in a loud, staccato beat filled the air as Fredrick did his level best to try and kill the much smaller and younger looking girl, a sneer on his face the entire time. Daria noted her roomie being beaten back, fighting defensively and pushed out of the painted ring on the pad without even a pause. In fact, the entire class was distracted by the very epic looking sword fight that was rapping non-stop across the mats.

"Sheila! You are out of your ring! Point and match goes to Fredrick." When their fight did not stop, the instructor started to get mad. "Stop that this instant! The match is over." He stomped over to step in the way.

Sheila tried to skirt away, but Fredrick's teeth were bared in a rictus of pure rage. With a sweep of his inhumanly muscled arms, he decapitated the offending instructor instantly with his dulled practice saber. A spray of blood coated the two nearest midshipman.

That caused several of the midshipmen to scream even as the assistant instructor started to move up to intercede.

Something had to be done. Sheila suddenly shouted out, "Someone get a Marine with a stunner! And evacuate the gym!" without a single pause as they continued to fight. She suddenly went on the offensive, slashing out to the little effect she was able to inflict. Cuts appeared on his practice garb, but it only caused light welts to appear on his supernaturally tough skin.

There was a quick stampede of the midshipmen, while the assistant instructor hit an alarm on her portable computer pad on her wrist while moving to a weapons locker. She was just opening it when she was speared from behind by a saber, thrown by the red-headed brute. Fredrick started to dash over, only to be passed by the _much_ faster girl in a blur.

Sheila grabbed a stunner, flicked the selector to max and then leveled it at the charging berserker. The weapon hummed ominously as she zapped him three times in rapid succession. He was just raising his fist to attack when she shot him twice more, sending him sliding across the floor and then into the wall unconscious. With that, Sheila tossed the slightly smoking weapon to the ground.

"What sort... of monster... is he? One of those shots... should have take him out," Marilyn gasped out as she held her hand to her chest wound.

"He had been made into a minor Jotun. Which means my enemies have decided they want me dead." Sheila was frowning and did not even realize she had spoken aloud. She then turned to render first aid, as Marilyn was bleeding out.

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Getting Noticed**

All of Saganami was depressed for over three weeks. Fredrick Grant was being charged with murder and attempted murder, though Sheila had a suspicion that the charges probably would only stick due to the eye witnesses. Not that the fire-giantling cared, as he had fallen under the sway of Sly Lokison.

Sheila had answered any question put to her as truthfully as possible. The Judge Advocate was a bit unpleased that she insisted she did not know exactly why, but she assumed it dealt with her natural family and their enemies... even after two thousand years. If it had not been for her astounding academic record while at Saganami, they probably would have recommended that she be discharged.

So she and Darla were quite surprised when they were both rousted out of bed ten minutes before their wakeup call at 5:20am.

"This is Lt. Commander Deitrich Hansel with the Office of Navel Intelligence. Open up in the name of the Queen!" came the shout at the door.

Sheila was over and answering the door, saluting as sharply as her fogged up brain could muster. Daria had thumped to the floor between their beds in a tangle of her blanket even as several men invaded their room.

"Midshipwomen Henderson and Golds, you will dress yourself and prepare for a debriefing. You are to touch _nothing _in this room other than your clothes," Hansel barked out. His tanned skin made him look like weathered leather, with a shock of dark hair under his beret.

Out in the hallway Rear Admiral Courvosier looked ready to chew nails.

"Dammit, Sheila, what the hell did you do this time?" Daria groused half awake as she started to scramble into her day uniform.

"I doubt that Commander Hansel wants us to chit-chat, Midshipwoman Golds," Sheila replied muzzily.

"Midshipwoman Henderson is quite correct. You will only respond if spoken to, is that understood?" Hansel barked out, his cold blue eyes studying them very intently.

Courvosier coughed slightly behind him as his men took every single electronic device out of the room.

With a repressed sigh, the commander continued in a more moderate tone. "To put your mind at ease, you two have done nothing wrong, but this is a matter of most pressing secrecy. Vice Admiral Patrick will be asking you some questions and as long as you answer them promptly and truthfully, everything should turn out perfectly fine."

They found themselves in a locked and marine-guarded conference room with no windows, awaiting the very high ranking officer in the form of one Vice Admiral Adam Patrick, Second Lord of the Admiralty. He doffed his beret and looked at the two of them. "Midshipwoman Daria Golds, you are free to leave as soon as you sign a writ that lets you know about what matters you will never discuss with anyone of lesser rank than captain of the list." He slid the data pad over so that Daria could view the information. "You will however have to speak to the Commandant about an empty package with drug residue."

Daria gulped and saluted. "Yes, sir." She started to read her papers very quickly. It was confusing to her, telling that she would not discuss matters of Sheila's homework. "Ma'am, I couldn't even _understand_ some of her homework."

"It doesn't matter. Do not discuss it even obliquely or I'll have you in front of a military tribunal for a court martial so fast you'll think you got whiplash." Patrick's brown eyes were very unfriendly.

"Yes, sir!" Daria quickly scribbled her signature.

"You are free to go to your first class. Do not go back to your room before lunch." The vice admiral then turned to Sheila as Daria almost scampered out the door. "And now for my true headache. First your application raised _all _sorts of red flags, then the attempted murder and now... you discover something so immense that it could affect Manticore in a truly profound way. Midshipwomen should not be bringing themselves to the attention of the Lords of the Admiralty."

"The new wormhole junctions I discovered? I would think think that the monetary value for trade would be- No, this has to do with the upcoming war with the People's Republic. Manticore does not have the resources to blockade the additional 'Beta' wormhole termini. I hadn't even considered that aspect, just the fact that transit times were going to be reduced within one hundred light years and that last long distance termini out on the western periphery of the Solarian League." Sheila was now rapidly thinking things over.

"Exactly. Her Majesty has been in meetings this morning with the Lord of the Admiralty. I can't see any way that we can not try to take advantage of this. But that's only true if it is a secret. Who else have you told of your project?" Patrick asked in a hard, flinty tone. His gray hair added a certain gravity to the situation.

"I did not make it a secret but only Midshipwoman Golds and Mr. Borgea have actually seen the papers." Sheila was going through her memories. "And his teaching assistant for some help in interpreting the old surveys that I used for my thesis."

The admiral nodded finally. "And the computer you used for the data crunching?"

"Oh, I used the tactical computer system over a week during their night shift. I wasn't under any rush and I had to use the free resources. I can't think that anyone would be able to figure out what my jobs were from those logs, but you should be able to check the logs to see if anyone accessed it."

"Very well, midshipwoman. You are also going to fall under the Official Secrets Act. Though I dare say you are probably going to be dragged from your classroom to teach some professors a little bit about how you figured out how to do all that with old inaccurate data." Givens stood up and accepted the salute from the midshipwoman, sending her on her way.

* * *

Queen Elizabeth III sat in her waiting room for her prime minister to appear. They had some very important matters that had developed abruptly. She was only here with one person at this time in the private sitting room of the Queen Chancellery, fitted with blue decor that was so common of the Blue Hall.

Allen Summervale, the rake-thin Duke of Cromarty, was admitted by her marine detachment. He bowed deeply, "Your majesty."

"Oh, posh. This is a bit informal, Allen." She directed him to sit on the couch near her for close seating. "Allen, you know Mitchell Anderson, the Judge Advocate General in charge of that murder that happened in Saganami?"

Allen shook hands with the thin man in an expensive suit. "A dreadful thing. I heard he killed an instructor with a training sword."

"And we might have to drop all charges against him," Mitchell said with a sour frown. "You would think forty eye witnesses and three cameras recording would be enough to nail him..."

"I think I hear a 'but' coming," Allen said as he settled down in the plush couch.

"Yes, indeed. I actually had forensic looking into how hard it would be to decapitate a human with a training sword. It doesn't even seem possible. Cut his neck, yes. But actually remove a head? Supposedly impossible. The other midshipwoman actually defeated him by shooting him _five_ times with the stunner set to its most strong setting. Actually burned it out."

The prime minister frowned at that. "I thought the highest settings could cause heart attacks if multiple shots like that were used.

"He was only out for an hour and almost escaped before an armored marine broke his arm," the prosecutor explained.

"My word, that does sound terrifying. But chopping of a head with that sword must have been possible, he did it after all." Allen looked a bit confuse, an unusual look for the soft-seeming politician.

"It's not humanly possible, Allen," the queen explained. "And neither was what the young midshipwoman he was fighting did either."

"May I show him, your majesty?" Mitchell stood up and went to a concealed holo tank emitter. He inserted a data pad and activated the unit.

The scene of the students arriving in the gym to start their sparring with blunted sabers showed, quickly focusing in on the brutish looking highlander starting to flail at the smaller and much slighter girl. The murder of the instructor was almost incidental to his attack on Sheila.

"As you can see, he had managed to get himself paired up with Henderson and then proceeded to do his best to kill her," Mitchell explained. The scene shifted to a top angle down view, showing the students fleeing while the assistant instructor hit the alarm and opened a weapon locker. Allen winced as he saw the saber being thrown and impaling her with surprising force. He had only taken a few steps when the younger girl zipped past him to grab the stunner from the locker and shot him in the face five times in very rapid succession.

"Why did you speed up that part?" the chief politician of the Star Kingdom of Manticore asked.

"We didn't. That's the raw footage, only altered to come from different angles. According to one visual effect specialist, he figures that she was going nearly 90 clicks there," the prosecutor explained carefully.

"So it had to be altered?" Allen asked as he frowned, his pudgy face in deep consideration.

"We don't know. It actually matches the story that Henderson, three other midshipmen who saw it and what the cameras show. It just should be impossible," Mitchell said as he shrugged helplessly.

"While it might be a miscarriage of justice, I'm still not certain why this is so important," Allen noted.

"Thank you, Mitchell. I'm afraid I'll have to continue this briefing without you. Give me a com later," Elizabeth called out. She waited for him to be escorted out by a marine in dress uniform before continuing. "The reason it is so important, Allen, is that the midshipwoman that was nearly killed is the one that discovered the additional wormhole junctions. The ones that might help us respond to attacks in half the time or _less_ than before their discovery."

"Which, if I remember, was noted as an impossible leap forward in multi-dimensional mathematics," Allen said as he frowned. He had been kept abreast of the development by his First Lord of Admiralty, Janeck.

"She's shown a remarkable ability and seems to sincerely be applying for citizenship, but so many things about her do not make sense." Elizabeth shook her head, her tight, black kinky hair shining in the light like her mahogany skin. "I've asked her to be brought here, as she has very much intrigued me." She started to absently pet her treecat Ariel.

The com buzzer sounded. "A Miss Henderson to see you, you majesty," her personal assistant called out through the link.

"Send her in," Elizabeth said in an amused tone.

Sheila stepped in, then tilted her head slightly as she took in the two powerful politicians. Without hardly a pause, she advanced to the queen, saluted and then bowed deeply. "Your majesty summoned me?"

"Yes, we were wondering about the impossibilities shown here. Could you explain them?" the queen asked formally as she pointed at the frozen image of the end of her fight.

"His strength? And my speed, I suppose." Sheila considered that for a long moment. "They are impossible for normal mortals, your majesty. While I do not rub my special abilities in the face of everyone I meet, I will also not hide them. My lineage contains the blood of the gods of Olympus."

That was not what either one were expecting to hear. Genetic engineering, exotic cybernetics, super-powers... the blood of gods was not in their top ten list of possibilities. "Are you trying to say that you are some demigoddess?" Elizabeth asked querulously.

"My mother is... was Athena Parthenos, Goddess of Wisdom and War. While I guess you could call me a demigoddess, its not quite accurate. I only have fallen into the the journey of heroes so far," the young blonde was saying when _they_ appeared.

Three women flickered into existence in the center of the room. They all were of more than average height somehow seemed more real... more there.

The first woman was of imperious demeanor, carrying a large shield emblazoned with the famed Old Earth England's Union Jack's colors. Upon her head sat a roman helm and she carried a spear, that seemed to fit her robes. At her right-side stood another woman in white robes, carrying a torch that seemed to sear away any imperfection in understanding. Upon her brow sat a spiked crown of gold. Last was a more simple looking woman of incredible beauty wearing the basic garb of a French peasant from over twenty centuries in the past. Their pure sense of presence was overwhelming.

"Britannia?" Sheila asked in shock.

"Youngest sister, well met. We stand in place of our mother, to bring these gifts. Sly Lokison's attack has spread far and wide, setting your path upon great hardship... and legend. For you have gained the enmity of a god, so does your ichor sing," Britannia declared in a clear voice that seemed carry further than possible.

Elizabeth, Allen and Ariel all were stunned by their sudden appearance. Sheila watched them warily.

"We come bearing gifts, youngest daughter of Athena and dear sister," the goddess in peasant's garb. "From myself, Mariana of the Ideals and The Revolution, I bear your a pendant that will allow you to once again heal and wage war. Let your wisdom guide you. Avez-mes bénédictions."

"My gift to thee, Sheila, is from our grandfather. He always hated that his dearest daughter was forced to sacrifice you to save this mortal realm. And then when she fell... his anger was wroth. So unto thee, I give you one of Mighty Zeus's lightning bolts. Carry it always and may it strike down thine foes," the woman carrying the torch of liberty declared as she held out a crackling bolt of lightning.

"And lastly, I carry something not for you, but your queen," Britannia called out. "For her, a sword of legend was reforged in Avalon. Elizabeth, Queen of Manticore, carry Excaliber with honor and may your own legend carry across all humanity." The Spirit of Britain handed the sword reverently to the queen with care.

The dark-skinned queen took the celtic-looking broadsword in shock.

As suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished. Leaving only a sword, an amulet and a bolt of coruscating lightning in Sheila's hands.

"So..." the girl said softly.

"I think I need a brandy. How about you, Allen?" Elizabeth asked her minister in a whimsical tone.

"Parched. Might have to drink the whole bottle. Does that always happen, young lady?" Allen's keen eye and insight noticed that the girl's appearance had slightly changed. Nothing that he could define, but she seemed more fully there. "I'm afraid you're still a little young, if I remember."

"No, that was actually my first time. And yes, I'm still considered a bit too young for alcohol. Let me serve you. On the rocks?" she asked as she somehow hid the bolt of lightning in her pocket

The queen held her treecat closely, trying to absorb the immensity of what had just happened. "Yes, please."

At the prime minister's nod, Sheila quickly filled their tumblers with expensive amber liquid and then took a glass of juice herself.

"Well, I will instruct the prosecution to continue the trial. You would be willing to be called to witness and prove your abilities if needed?" the dark-skinned woman said as she slowly caressed the sheathed weapon on her lap.

"Of course, your majesty." Sheila noted that the treecat's eyes were very intent upon her.

"Well, then the other matter is merely that I am granting you our royal thanks. You work upon the wormhole junction, while of great secrecy, may well decide the war. And may add greatly to my kingdom's wealth. I would grant a boon of five million Manticorian dollars for your works." The brandy was soothing her nerves even as it burned down her throat.

The young scion frowned slightly. "Not to sound churlish, but could I perhaps... negotiate, your majesty?"

"Please, call me Elizabeth in private. You are, in your own way, from as lofty a position as my own birth. Ask and I will see," the woman said with laughing dark brown eyes.

Allen leaned forward. He wanted to see what the young demigoddess asked.

"You know the old proverb about give a man a fish and he eats for a day-"

"-and teach him to fish and he eats for life? I think I see where this is going," Elizabeth said with a small grin as she petted Ariel, who luxuriated in her own way the stress away.

"Perhaps I could be given a very small percentage of transit fees as a holding? One-fourth of a percent would be less initially, but would eventually catch up to that monetary award. That will certainly give me enough to live on for a very long time," Sheila said with a grin.

"I can't say that is too much. It is a small amount. And... this gives me a reason. You applied to be a citizen of Manticore?" Elizabeth accepted Sheila's quizzical nod as verification. "Very well." The queen stood, setting her Treecat down upon the couch. "Kneel before me, Sheila."

"Your majesty?" she asked even as she knelt.

"Do you solemnly swear to uphold the laws of the land and swear your loyalty to me as vassal?"

"I do, your majesty," Sheila said, trying to hide her discomfort of her 'citizen' background.

With a tap on each shoulder, Elizabeth continued. "Then arise, Baroness Sheila of the Lynx Terminal. Thou art a peer of the realm. I expect to hear of legendary deeds in mine service."

The prime minister bowed and then clapped heartily. "Welcome to the peerage, dame." And a cunning move by the queen to cement her loyalty.

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Continuing Eduction and Trials of Publicity**

The naval academy was abuzz for several weeks as they adjusted to the newly ennobled girl. Sheila, for the most part just tried to downplay her new noble title without insulting her peers. It was nearly Christmas when Sheila stepped into stepped into her shared dorm only to pick up a subtle new scent as she saw her room mate reading a bookpad casually.

"Oh, Daria. You know they are going to bounce you if you get caught doing drugs again," she said sadly as she dumped her bag and com unit on her bed.

"Are you accusing me of something?" the older girl snapped out aggressively. Her dark hair was flat to her head, as a sheen of sweat covered her even in the cool room.

"No, I'm just stating a fact. You know it is unbeffiting an officer. And they are watching you closely." Sheila knelt down next to her bed and put her hand on her roomies' shoulder.

"I-I-I... just can't help it. The work... it just keeps crushing me down. I don't do it until I get back to our room at night," the older teen said, her eyes were tearing up.

"If it's going to be too much now, it's going to be worse later," the demigoddess noted. "You need to get a hold of it before it takes control. This is going to probably make you feel like crap." Sheila touched her shoulder, purging her of the drug and instantly giving her a feeling like she had just crashed. "Let's destroy whatever stash you have and then go speak to the commandant. I know you can do this." She gave a small nudge of her legend, lending supernatural weight to her words.

Numbly, Daria nodded as she suddenly felt she could do this.

They found a bag with only a small residue, incinerating it on one of the open air balconies and then headed to the one of the late night officers. Commadent Courvosier of the ATC was still up, working on his grading in his office.

Sheila left Daria at his door and then headed back to their quarters. She would be surprised if Daria was there in the morning, though hopefully it would only be temporary. Quietly walking around the corner, she stopped as she saw two people kneeling near her doorway quite late in the evening.

"Are you sure she's there?"

"Yes, I'm sure you blockhead. This is guaranteed. A cool easy ten million and we are set for life." The voice was quite smug.

Sheila stepped back around the corner and quickly headed over to where one of the chief petty officers was in his office, then slowed down as she realized he was probably in on this. He was conspicuously absent from his office at the end of the floor. Picking up the phone, she casually called the non-emergency Military Police line.

"Sergeant Hadderson speaking," the crisp voice on the far side said.

"Sgt. Hadderson, this is Midshipwoman Lady Sheila Henderson. I have two people attaching a device to my doorway. From the comments that I overheard, they are talking about being paid millions of dollars for a 'job'. I'm afraid they are trying to kill me and it is only luck that I was away."

"Baroness Sheila!" There was a shuffle as if keys were being pressed on the far side. "The master sergeant said this may happen again. I will have a rapid response team there in five minutes. Stay put."

Six minutes later, the midshipman and enlisted officer were arrested even as a hazard team was contacted to ascertain what they had been pumping into her room. It was only later that she found out it was a noxious chemical mix that would have asphyxiated them both within moments. It actually sickened a dozen other midshipmen in the adjoining room, even with the climate controls sealing her room off.

It appeared Sly Lokison had struck again.

* * *

This just cemented in people's minds that Sheila was someone _different_ and especially someone that was wanted dead. Her mates in her dormitory were decidedly jumpy and one young son of a Earl actually tried to have her removed as a threat to the service. Nothing came of that, as the queen had stepped in.

Her instructors were quite happy, as her scores had only improved. She had been bumped up to Second Form tactics with Raoul Coursevier where she was starting tear through the course at an accelerated pace. She had switched from fencing to soccer for her second semester, a member of the junior team that very quickly was overcoming the older and bigger teams.

But today was a special day as she exited the pinnace they had taken up for basic zero-g training. Her fellow trainees were patting her on the back. "Good luck!" Jeff form Third Form called out.

"It's just the ceremony and paperwork. I've already sworn loyalty to the queen directly," she protested. "I don't need luck."

She checked in her skinsuit and then quickly showered and changed into her best fitting uniform. The train took her into Landing to the old Port Authority building where she joined an ecletic group of fifty people that were all swearing their loyalty to their new country. They were just starting when a stir was arising at the doorway.

Smartly accoutered marines in full dress uniform led a figure that was familiar to everyone within the kingdom.

"Please all rise for her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth III," the baliff blared out quick.

Sheila snapped to attention and saluted as crisply any any officer.

Elizabeth gave her a small wink as she passed and then moved to personally oversee the searing in of all of her new citizens. The ceremony took only a grand total of ten minutes, each new citizen signing their paperwork in front of a witness.

"Now that is interesting, Baroness Sheila. You decided to change your last name?" the queen asked quietly as she handed in her paperwork.

"Yes, your majesty. I felt it was appropriate at this juncture," the scion noted just as softly. "And very much like two of my sisters."

Elizabeth nodded as she did realize the meaning. The rest of the papers were signed and notarized as most of the recipients were quite thrilled that the queen was there. Sheila expected that something else was up.

After the ceremony, one of her marines walked up in the middle of the room. "This way, Baroness Sheila." He led her outside and to a heavy, armored air car parked in the parking garage. The limo, black and sleek, had the queen carefully being cleaned up from her public appearance by an attendant.

"Sheila! Sit down. I'm afraid I'm going to be kidnapping you a bit this afternoon. There's an event you just must come to. And it looks like someone flubbed getting you the invitation." The Winton's dark eyes studied the young girl. "Well, and it did give me an excuse to crash that for an impromptu photo-op."

"You are dazzling us, your majesty," Sheila said with a grin.

"None of that. In private, it is just Elizabeth."

The young blonde sat in the seat across from her as the limo took off to go across town. "Is this the announcement of the new wormhole junction?"

"Yes, indeed. It's a major event at the House of Lords. I want you and a few other academics there as we announce the new transit to the Talbot cluster," she said with a happy grin. "The Solarian League will be salivating over the shortcuts this offers to ship products from the core to two edges of the periphery."

The limo was already landing in the old part of Landing, where all the original governmental building were located. "Farnie? You have that robe for our youngest peer, don't you?"

"What exactly am I being roped into?" Sheila asked in a worried matter as the aide handed her a box.

"Oh, I'm just getting you seated her in the House of Nobles. While you won't be expected to vote on matters while away on service, it is expected that you will sit in when you are free of other duties." The queen led her down the side passages secured by her royal marines and security forces, entering into a hallway that led to the cloakroom.

Sheila found herself suddenly bedecked in the robes and brought into the main room, full of rows of nobles.

Baron High Ridge frowned as he saw a young woman (obviously a prolong recipient) enter on the trail of the queen. They took to the stand, Elizabeth at the front. With a short conference to the magister, she stood up to the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, peers all. I come before you with news of import and glad tidings. First, let me officially welcome the newest Peer of the Realm, Baroness Lynx; Midshipwoman Sheila Parthenos Manticoria. Does anyone wish to promote her for inclusion into the House of Lords?"

Her cousin of the regent of Gold Peak rose her hand, hiding most of her confusion. Elizabeth had been most unforthcoming about the manner and need to elevate this Peer.

The queen looked around, then nodded. "And are their any dissenters to seating her to this august body?"

None of the nobles actually _knew _who she was, so demurred coming against her in general principle.

"Then welcome. Baroness, a short acceptance speech and then I must bring up the matters of import," Elizabeth said while hiding a smile.

Sheila plastered a smile on her face that was none too convincing. "Ladies and gentlemen of this august body, I thank you for your welcome. This is a quite unexpected surprise this day, proving that our queen is a lady who gets what she wishes," she said, emoting long suffering that caused a ripple of surprised laughter across the peers. Standing taller, she drew her presence about her as if it were a weapon. "This is a great honor and duty that has been bequeathed by her upon me. I hope that I can live up to those duties while entering the navy. Please guide me by your example as I take my time to study how to best help this body deliberate and lead the people of Manticore into a new age."

Such simplicity in an acceptance speech was quite unusual, but her heart was truly into it and tugged on the hearts of most of the nobles. Even those that were cold and cruel noted the way the greater masses lapped it up.

Baron High Ridge and Earl North Hollow both suddenly wondered who this girl was and what threats she posed. For they hid no illusions from themselves that this was a shot from the queen into the heart of the body.

The queen moved back up to the podium. Her dark, Winton features stood her in good stead. "Thank you, baroness. I did have a slightly ulterior motive for her to be here this day, as part of our body. For it was her discoveries while studying hyper-dimensional math at Saganami that make my second announcement possible this day."

Now each noble (and indeed, much of the population that had tuned in at the speed of rumor) was listening quite closely.

"This day, we announce the discovery and mapping of the sixth wormhole junction. Already scouted out by our navy, it leads to the periphery of the Solarian League. Indeed, according to my advisers that this bodes well for our economy, as even more ships will travel through our ports to the Talbot Cluster. This news heralds great opportunities for our merchanters."

High Ridge and North Hollow both froze at that announcement. How had she managed to hide this bombshell?

"Thank you, Baroness Sheila."

That caused several of the visiting mathematician professors to start whispering among themselves even as the rest of the Peers rose to their feet, clapping wildly.

Sheila would be horribly disappointed to find out her blushing features were plastered across hundreds of planets within just a few short weeks.

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Graduating Experiences**

Sheila landed the twenty-five meter cutter just a year later, so softly that no one felt the landing gear take up the stress. "Sensors show good contact on all landing points," she called out to her co-pilot.

"Shutting down thrusters one through six," he called back.

"I confirm shutdown," she continued her checklist.

Soon they were filing out to the humid tarmac of high density ceracrete of Kreskin Airbase. The scathing trainer gave the First Form midshipmen a good yelling at and then she went on to critique their nearly perfect landing in an exacting manner.

They were changed into their uniform and riding the tram over to the main campus from the air-base when Sheila recognized a mop of black hair. "Daria!"

The other midshipwoman looked over at her in surprise. "Sheila?"

"Good to see you back. Everything A-Okay?" The young scion flitted up to sit next to the thinner girl.

"Actually, yes. Got my head screwed on a bit tighter and back in my first year. The instructors have been really supportive," her old room mate said with a grin.

"I'm headed to my first Third Form Tactics class. Courvosier is a real task-master. Going to have hardly any time to even rest. Which I think he is doing on purpose," Sheila complained in good nature.

"Third form? I though you started just over a year ago?" Daria complained right back in the same good natured tone.

"It keeps me active," she replied with a sunny smile. "I think I'm going to miss the first half of my soccer game though."

"So you are the secret of the Junior Squad? I've heard that a lot of Fourth Termers are complaining they lost a lot of money on their bets. I'm back in advanced engineering, of course. Some of the new equipment is really sweet."

They talked a bit of shop, where Daria discovered that Sheila still did not have a room mate, as no one was willing to sit that close to the 'Jinx' for the strange events that kept happening. Daria thought Sheila was totally fluffing up the story about magical ninja.

The tram arrived and Sheila trotted off quickly to get to the ATC, filing in to sit with the rest of her class.

Rear Admiral Raoul Courvosier looked over at all of the young students. "I think we can get started," the small, slightly-plump looking officer called out. "I've flagged one half of you as red team, the other half as gold. We'll be going over basic merchant protection and interdiction." Which was Janeck's none to subtle reminder that he still felt the Navy's role was to defend Manticore's merchant fleet.

Sheila and her group quickly filled into the three simulators that were near matches for light cruisers. They were to be 'supposed pirates' who were everyone realized were modeled on the People's Republic forces.

One of the admiral's staff lieutenants walked up. "Sheila Manticoria, you are 'captain' of the third aggressor ship."

An older midshipman looked over at the very young looking girl. Her age was common knowledge by know. "Isn't she a bit young?" he called out in a scathing tone.

"If she keeps up her grades during her Third Form, she'll probably be put in charge of the task force. As it is, because even with her best scores, she still just joined us here," the officer called back.

"Lt. Sommers, may I choose where to assign people?" she called carefully.

The burly older officer just shrugged.

Three hours later, her opponents were thinking she was a witch, as her 'cruiser' had appeared on a converging vector at maximum stealth while the other two raiders were just entering range towing a drone that was pretending to be her. As commerce raiders, destroying the merchant caravan had been perfectly legal, if not quite in their orders. Her cruiser had actually taken them out coldly in laser range even as she had fired perfect up the kilt shots that blew out the after-impellers of two of the 'enemy' ships.

Raoul would be studying that set up for days to see how she had figured out what she did. He actually learned a little bit more about wedge-sensor interference out of it.

* * *

Nine months later, he was still trying to figure out how she managed her tricks. She was literally top in almost every class, with a grade point average that really had to be seen to be believed. He studied her and the ninety-five hundred graduating classmates as they let the the main commandant's words flow over them. The recording of the last fight of the very first Nike and its Captain Saganami played out to its grim finale.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Edward Saganami's tradition lives on! Repair to your new duty stations in honor," Commandant Romanii called out, his voice not even cracking due to his age. He would be retiring now, incredibly aged in comparison to his young graduates.

The new, provisional officers whooped as soon as they were outside.

Sheila caught up to some of her other Fourth Form Middies. "So, Bastion, have you heard where you are heading yet? All I've got is orders to take myself up on the next shuttle to _Hephaestus_."

"Nope. Though I'm headed to there, too. So we're probably one of the ships that is preparing to leave," the older man said, though he looked only a year older than she did. He was actually twenty-three years old.

The trip to her empty dorm to get her grav-trunk was quick and smooth. She had been packed her for a while. She sent some last minute instructions to her investor and she made her way to the Kreskin Air Field. Sheila let her mind drift just slightly as she remembered the hours of piloting the shuttles and even the one time she got to fly the old-style air fighters, the Javelins.

Finally her pad beeped at her to let her know she should start boarding _now_ as the shuttle was filling. Being the most junior of officers, she was right behind highest enlisted ranks, fitting comfortably up near the front one-quarter.

The flight up to orbit was relatively boring, even as the super-massive space station grew through the view ports. The wedge was cut and the thrusters took over, guiding them to a standard shuttle port. Soon she was bunked in a spare room for the night, as it had been a rather busy day or so, what with graduating.

The next morning she checked her comp to verify her orders. It appeared she was going to be assigned to a destroyer named _Anglicus_ under the orders of Lt. Commander Brenda Harmon. The little destroyer looked quite dwarfed by the battlecruiser undergoing a refit next to it.

The two sentries at the hatch had seen her (of course) and called out, "Identify yourself!" the left one said.

"Midshipwoman Manticoria reporting for duty. I understand that I am to present myself to the captain?" she asked politely as she handed over her identity card for inspection.

The marine nodded as he checked the card perfunctionally. "That's correct. Captain Harmon is expecting you."

It only took about ten minutes to drop her grav-trunk in the cramped midshipman quarters and then with only a bit of assistance from an enlisted, was headed up to the bridge. She nodded to the marine stationed at the door and then stepped up to the captain's station. Saluting smartly, she called out, "Midshipwoman Manticoria reporting for duty, captain."

"At ease, midshipwoman." Brenda Harmon was an older woman, showing a hint of gray hair and the fact that she was likely a first generation prolong recipient. "You will be one of _Angelicus's_ two snotties this voyage. Lt. Fillius will be your OCTO as he's my head of ATC. I'll make sure that he works you hard."

"Yes, ma'am!" she replied promptly and with vigor.

Harmon nodded. "You'll be pleased to note that we are being deployed into the Talbot cluster to show the flag. We'll be working hard, visiting several systems. That is all. Dismissed." There was just a hint of humor in her voice.

Sheila saluted again and then walked out the door of the bridge, the hatch sealing behind her. With a puff of air, she set herself back down to Snottie Row. She really wondered if she were doing this for the right reasons. Or if she was doing this as a form of self punishment for failing everyone and everything back on Earth.

* * *

Missiles shot towards the helpless _Angelicus _as two enemy light cruiser came at them, splitting up to bracket them. Nothing they did seemed to deter them after they had popped up at almost energy range. Their icons on the holotank glared a baleful red spitting rapid fire missiles.

"Course change up five degrees, starboard ten degrees. Prepare for a secondary course correction," Sheila called out from the tactical control console. Everyone was suited up with helmets racked up next to them.

Captain Harmon was watching the training exercise closely. In the two months that he had put the two new Midshipwoman through their paces, she had realized that their instructors at Saganami had somehow understated both of their capabilities. Angela Howard had a record of fine tactical and engineering through her courses, but had blossomed spectacularly since coming aboard. The red-headed midshipwoman was currently in the hot seat of the sailing master and was breezing through the rapid and confusing course changes that the blonde midshipwoman was sending the nimble little destroyer through.

"Yaw clockwise fifteen degrees while bow down ten, come about to port thirty degrees. Full emergency power," Sheila called out as more missiles streaked out to them.

Lt. Dougal looked over at his captain in confusion, as somehow the computers had decided that Anglicus had again survived the heavy odds as the impellar wedge deftly blocked the bracket of six missiles from the first bogie, then adjusted and blocked all but one from the second. Even then, the computer declared that the laser head scored a light hit losing one point defense cluster and missile launcher.

The jaunty little destroyer was pouring on every bit of speed it could even as it fired its pair of chasers to keep the two light cruisers honest. Their combined point-defense took out the anemic response, but Sheila finally had gotten the little destroyer across the hyperlimit fully charged and at the bare limit of sublight speed at .3 c.

"Execute Escape One, Almo," she called out to one of the petty officers.

"Confirming, Escape One." Almo Ferdinand said as he timed the hyperspace jump.

At that, the simulation ended, much to the relief of the crew that had been desperately fighting their 'ship' for over three hours.

"Congratulations. Very few people ever manage to pull off an escape under such heavy fire," the captain call out. "Stand down from combat stations. Everyone take a quick lunch and then we'll undergo a briefing in the conference room." She leaned over to her XO. "So, any idea how you grade an always-lose fight when they win it?"

"Well, it looks like point-defense crews were a little slow to begin with, but otherwise I'm seriously thinking we have a serious chance for the Queen's Cup in the next Fleet Exercise," Martin Dougal said with a quick grin that he made sure none of their juniors could see.

"Now that, my friend, is a matter of counting your eggs before they've hatched," Brenda said primly. She shook her head as she shifted her thoughts to another matter. "We are coming up on Murdoch and should be only about ten hours behind to get to Tillerman."

Martin frowned for a second, his craggy good looks looking slightly rough-hewn for a moment. "Captain, I don't know if it's my imagination..."

"But you thought you picked up something odd from our last stop at Montana? I did too, Marty. I swear they were testing the water on some sort of big political alliance. Which doesn't make a bit of sense. We definitely haven't put any hydrogen into that fire out here," Brenda said with a shrug. Manticore had been building a stronger alliance all across the frontier where they shared borders with the People's Republic.

"Actually, I _think_ they might be considering a protectorate. From what I've heard, these folks think they are staring down a pulsar of the Office of Frontier Security." Martin saw her expression turn grim at that. It was not that uncommon for the OFS to do all but conquer in the name of the Solarian League.

"You think they see us as a better option? That won't fly in the House of Lords, Marty. The Progressives, Liberals and the Conservative Association would all have a coronary at the thought of Queen Elizabeth adopting whole planetary systems into the kingdom. Even if they wanted to be absorbed." Brenda shook her head, he tight curls of graying hair hardly even moving.

"Heck, even if they beg and plead. The only reason I could see anything flying is if we were allowed to recruit for our armed forces."

"Now that is an actual thought, my exec." Captain Harmon actually had a little foreign services experience, so she might actually get someone to notice that little kernel of an idea. She would have to put it in the out-going queue to their Lords of Admiralty.

"So what do you think happened to the _Forbearance_?" Marty said to change the direction of the conversation.

"The same thing that I said last time. Just bad luck that they picked up a harmonic in their Alpha Node that burned three of them out. _Tornado _is going to be working on fixing them at Tillerman for at least another six weeks. You can ask her captain directly, but his honorable lordly sort will likely punch you for your sass. Then you would have to spend the entire trip back in the brig as his crew _will_ back up his story, while I will be quite forced to keep quiet by his evil lackeys." The grin on Brenda's face was quite sly. Of course, that meant that _Tornado_ would not be available to repair any ships that returned to Montana where it was supposed to be 'based' at.

"You still owe him that much beer, captain?" her XO asked plaintively.

"I'll have to plead ignorance about what you are insinuating, Marty."

Which was all the answer he needed.

* * *

**Chapter 8 - A Missed Attack**

Sheila pulled her head out of an access hatch the number two graser control room. "Light her up, Yvonne," she called out.

The rating nodded as she started to bring up the communication system that slaved the laser under the control of the bridges computers. "Looks all clear here," the Hispanic crewman called out.

"Match, can you go walk up and down the access-way again. I think we pulled out the last motion sensor connection, but you never know." Sheila had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Some enterprising crewman far back in _Anglicus's_ past had set up motion sensors to warn of an officer's approach by flickering the lights in the weapon mount. Unfortunately, it set of some magnetic harmonics that occasionally tripped the weapon mount into local only control.

Match nodded and trotted off. Ten minutes later, he ran back in just in front of Lt. (JG) Andy Fillius, her Officer Canidate Training Officer. The older looking man had an amused eye on 'Match' as he stepped in to see them finish installing the cover panel. "So any luck with that?" he asked. It was an old, mean trick to force a Snottie to try and fix the old weapon mount. No one had succeeded in sixty years.

"Yes, sir. It appears someone put in an unauthorized motion sensor hooked up to the light switch in the weapon mount. It was causing an occasional glitch that would set the controls to local-only," Sheila said as she saluted. "I think we've got most of them disconnected. It'll probably take an engineering crew to find the actual sensors in the hallway though."

Andy blinked slowly, then squelched the desire to snicker. "So, some ratings had set it up to play hooky at times? Now it makes sense how this compartment was always at ready during exercises. Very well, Midshipwoman Manticoria, I think you should probably change your uniform and then report to the bridge. The captain's away party should be coming back within the hour."

"Yes, sir." Sheila headed to the Snotties' Row. A quick shower and then she slipped into the black and gold duty uniform. She showed up half an hour early to take her assigned slot.

Lt. Fillius was sitting at the captain's station, looking alert. "Very good, Midshipwoman. I'll be glad when the captain is back. She made an awfully big hole in our officer's roster when she took her side party down to the capital of Murdoch." In fact, they were at minimum regs for officers.

Murdoch was a singularly forgettable world, only colonized fifty years ago. With a low population and fairly low tech base, it was a curiosity at best. Though the captain seemed to think she might get some good information out of them. The local shipping firm out of Rembrandt did drop in every year or two to see how they were doing. And had just dropped in a month ago.

"I'm sure he did it to just see how we would do under pressure, sir," she called back in humor.

That got the older looking man to laugh for a second. "And the XO wants to do a full dress rehearsal welcome to surprise the captain. So he's got just about everyone else except Ensign Hardin in engineer and us up here on the bridge down in the boatbay." He looked over at her considering things for a long moment. "In fact, do you think you can manage to not have a disaster up here? I think I'll sneak off down to the landing party." He had requested that Ensign Therrian pick him up some local distilled liquors and wanted to talk to him privately as soon as possible.

"If you are sure, sir." Leaving a Midshipwoman in charge of the bridge, even when parked in orbit seemed very uncautious. Not that she could mess things up too badly before an officer returned.

"I'm sure. Midshipwoman Manticoria, you have the watch," Fillius called out. He gave a lazy salute as he walked over to the hatch in the cramped bridge.

"I have the watch," she replied formally as she saluted. She turned over to her fellow Midshipwoman. "Miss Howard, do we have a plot on the captain's pinnace?" The enlisted crewmen were giving off a subtle vibe of dissatisfaction at the officer leaving. Sheila had realized that the eighty year old lieutenant did have a marked lax attitude when he did not have an officer looking over his own shoulder. He did his duty, of course, but taking off like this was unfortunately quite common. That was probably why he still did not have a command after forty T-Years of service.

"Yes, ma'am. They are due to take off in five minutes."

Sheila sat attentively while keeping aware of the entire bridge. The pinnace made a leisurely flight and had then docked safely. The young Midshipwoman relaxed slightly. The captain was back on the ship and should be resuming his duties. Which would mean she could get back to reading some of the medical manuals that Surgeon Lieutenant Helen Khars which she had been putting off for a few weeks. The actual advances in medicine were amazing-

The ship shuddered slightly even as angry damage codes appeared in red on the damage control screens. It only took a single glance for her super-acute eyes to see that something bad had happened in the boat bay. "Sound battlestations. Damage control crews to Boatbay One," she called out. When no one responded due to their shock, she repeated, "Sound battlestation. Damage control to Boatbay One."

Alarms started to whoop as crewmen scrambled to their combat duty stations. On the bridge they all quickly rotated through as they changed into their skin suits.

"Sheila, it appears that the captain's pinnace blew up just after it docked. It's really bad down there. They are reporting heavy casualties," Chief Petty Officer Armando Phillipe called out from the damage control station.

"I need more concise information. How is damage control doing with containing the damage?" she called back.

"Ensign Hardin is in charge down there-" Armando called out, only to cut himself off as new damage control codes flickered to life. "One of the hydrogen feeds from bunker one just lit up."

"I want all hydrogen feeds to Boatbay One cut off," she called back. "Angela, head on down there to meet up with one of the officers." The other midshipwoman headed off at a fast trot.

A com chime sounded at the captain's chair. "Midshipwoman Manticoria, officer of the watch," she called out.

"Sheila? What the hell are you doing? Where's Lt. Fillius?" Lt. SG Hellen Khars demanded.

"Lt. Fillius had removed himself to be at the landing party, ma'am," the scion replied quickly. "How bad is it, lieutenant?"

"We're suited up and trying to recover bodies. When the pinnace went up, it ripped the docking collar right off and it looks like the entire landing party was lost," the doctor replied. "The secondary explosion I think caught DC Ten and Five."

Sheila was rapidly figuring out who was where. "Are you sure? Damage Control Ten had Ensign Hardin-"

"Yes, I'm sure. Khars out," she snapped from the other line and disconnected.

The young girl's face was quite ashen. She hoped _someone_ down there survived, as this was turning into a nightmare.

* * *

It was ten hours later and the news had turned progressively worse. Lt. Killiard Hardin had been found to be barely alive, but was struggling for her life due to severe burns and cuts in sick bay along with ten members of the crew. Seventy-eight officers and crew had been killed. Including the captain, the XO and the entire side party. The highest ranked marine left onboard was a corporal. Which was actually _better_ than the navy side, as there was not one officer left alive and unscathed that was not a surgeon, which were by law not line officers and could not assume command of the ship.

Sheila sat at the front of the conference room trying to desperately not fidgit. "You've done a very excellent job. Lt. Hardin needs more serious medical attention though?"

Khars nodded. "She really needs to be put back together at a dirt-side hospital. It's going to be touch and go for at least a week, but if she survives the night, I expect she'll survive."

"And that brings us up to our next issue, which is what are we going to do?" Midshipwoman Angela Howard asked. Her pale, freckled face stuck out in sharp contrast to her copper-red hair.

"Exactly," CPO Armando Phillipe said.

"We are going to cut our deployment short and head back to Montana where one of Admiral Garret's ships in the division should be dropping in shortly. It is the nodal location for the southern deployment. I am going to have to lean on you fellows in the enlisted ranks, as I think this has to be the most abject loss of command ever. A midshipwoman should not find herself in command of ship," Sheila noted aloud.

"I'm not sure I feel comfortable with that," Armando said carefully.

"Well, staying here for over three month is not going to happen. Lives are on the line and we are all quite capable of running along home," Sheila declared in a cool tone.

Armando looked at her in aghast as his knuckles tightened on the edge of the conference table. "You are going to take us to Montana?"

"Unless you have a better idea?" she asked tartly.

"Lt. Kahrs is senior in rank," the dusky skinned petty officer noted.

"As a surgeon, I can not hold a command of a ship of any sort. The regulations are very specific. In fact, during my training they used a similar example of a ship that lost all but one midshipman. Sheila is in charge unless I find her to be medically unfit," Helen Khars said slowly. "As the only two surviving officers of any capacity, she's in charge. I think you graduated higher than Angela?"

"She graduated number one in our class," the red-haired midshipwoman noted quickly. No way did she want to get saddled with a whole ship.

"Which means you just became my exec and will get to stand a few watches here, Angela. Mr. Phillipe, you are going to be needed. Angela, I need to get an update about how soon we should be able to set off. The sooner the better. I'd hate to find out we missed connecting with another ship by a few days," Sheila explained. "Mr. Phillipe, I'm going to shift you down to engineering to ride herd over them and damage control."

"Yes, ma'am." His tone clearly stated that he thought this was insanity.

"If you have any reservations, please state them now. If you find you can not in good conscience be under my command, I will relieve you and find someone else willing to get to work," she snapped out. "Is that understood?"

He just nodded.

"I require a verbal confirmation for the record, Mr. Phillipe." Her eyes were cold chips of blue-green eyes.

"Yes, ma'am. I do not wish to state any reservations at this point." His hard muscles in his jaw showed his anger at being forced to say that.

"Then let's be about it."

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Sticking To Your Guns**

It had been a nerve-wracking six days back to Montana at a leisurely .45c in the hyperspace in the Eta Band. While propulsion was not damaged in any means, Sheila had no desire to strain herself or her crew. As a precaution and to get people's minds off the horrible disaster, she had been conducting some minor drills. In fact, she had all the crew go to action stations as they prepared to drop out of hyperspace at the edge of the Montana system.

"How are we coming along, Miss Howard?" she asked her other fellow midshipwoman.

"We are exactly five minutes out and preparing to revert to real space," she called back nervously. This was the first time she had ever taken a ship through hyperspace on her own, though really she was just overseeing it properly as the petty officers did most of the work.

The greens and purples that they saw outside the viewport were terribly strange. Sheila had actually spent a bit of time on their voyage out thinking about the Warshinki gravity sensors. They could probably be improved, but she was adamant about not being only a technologist and engineer. While she could do a great deal of good in that position, it would unlikely to generate the type of Legend she was striving for.

"Verify battlestations, please. Once we show clear in normal space, we will clear from action," she called out as she clenched her fist as she had gone over what had likely happened to the boat bay. Sly Lokison would die at her hand.

The countdown continued. Sheila had set up the course. They were actually dropping out just out from the hyperlimit at a leisurely .10 c, just in case someone was slightly off. Bouncing off the hyperlimit was a very fatal mistake that a ship only made once.

The reversion was a smooth downslope transition through the Delta wall, then the Beta wall and finally into real space while keeping an easy ten percent of the speed of light.

"Contacts," a startled petty officer at the tactical console. "It looks like a freighter and something about destroyer sized. Maybe a bit smaller. Correction, status change. The freighter is squawking a code seventeen."

"They are about to be boarded by pirates?" Sheila blurted out. She seriously wanted to punch fate in the face right now. Live in interesting times indeed.

"Orders, captain?" Angela called out.

Sheila almost froze there. For a long second, she was unsure of what to do exactly. Then she stepped past her hesitation. "Signal Bogie One and Two to heave to for inspection. Load one of the standard nukes and ready to fire a warning shot. Prepare to go to full power on my mark. He'll probably try to evade long enough to charge up his hyperdrive and duck across the hyperlimit." Her eyes had already noted that they were just inside the limit and he was heading directly into the system at .12 c. "All hands, battlestations. I repeat, all hands clear for action. This is not a drill."

"They look a bit stunned to see us here, they haven't quite responded yet," Angela called out from the helm.

"He's accelerating. Looks like he's trying to run," PO 2c Almo Ferdinand called out. The bogie leaped forward to his full four-hundred and fifty gravites acceleration. He made a panicked reaction and was running into the gravity well.

"Give them one final warning. If they don't respond in one minute, fire the warning shot. Maximum power, helm," Sheila called out in a bit of excitement. She was almost vibrating due to the action.

"Missile launch! Two missiles detected," Angela cried out, her voice rising in pitch.

"Point defense Alpha, bring us about fifteen degrees port and interpose the wedge. Miss Howard, you are authorized to respond in force," Sheila called out just like the book required.

_Anglicus's_ tubes cycled, loading full laser warheads in twenty-five seconds as Sheila frantically updated her targeting solution. Counter-missiles swatted one of the missiles and a laser cluster got the other one.

"The freighter is taking off," Almo called out. CiC had added the name to the first contact; _Pretty Cowgirl _and showed it taking off at a leisurely two hundred gravities.

There was usually only one reason for a freighter to take off after being ordered to heave to by a warship. "Politely tell them _again _to heave to for an inspection, Almo. Let them know that we don't look kindly on anyone leaving us holding the bag."

The lithe destroyer slid sideways and then belched five missiles back at the pirate, using the quickly canned orders Sheila had cobbled up. The pirate picked off three missiles with their point defense, but the last two savaged their aft. Missiles that were quit capable of destroying their whole ship blew out half of their alpha nodes. Their inertial dampners packed up due to a glitch that was magnified by the damage, instantly killing the crew as they were suddenly subjected to a full 250 gravities of force. Emergency cut offs cut the wedge just twenty seconds later as five more missiles were headed towards them.

"Kill the missiles and plot a course for the derelict," the blonde called out as she read the sensors very closely. "Looks like we caused their inertial compensator to fail. Miss Howard, set up a leisurely intercept and ask _Pretty Cowgirl_ to accompany us. We'll tow the pirate into Montana's orbit."

That caused everyone on the crew to wince as they imagined the death and destruction on the ship. Five flashes of light signaled the acceptance of the orders to self destruct and the freighter acquiesced (in a fairly surly tone) as Sheila realized she had just won her first live fire battle.

Sheila then turned to one of the enlisted ratings. "Please convey my desire to meet with Corporal Forveaux after he's gotten an inspection party together. He'll have to use the Captain's Cutter from Boat Bay Bravo. Expect the merchant ship to not cooperate. Probably proscribed cargo."

* * *

Bryant Melvarri was sweating a bit as he greeted the _Mantie_ marines at the airlock hatch of the _Pretty Cowgirl_. He hoped the captain of that destroyer was actually just peeved because he tried to run and wouldn't look too closely at their manifest and passenger list.

With a hiss, the lightly armored door opened to his paling face. Marines in armor tended to do that. "Uh, welcome. Sorry about any hassles. You really saved our bacon." His bosses in the Jessyk Combine were going to be very unhappy with him, even if this was one of his first jobs that he had heard other ships did.

"You're very welcome. Unfortunately, I am going to have to ask that you stand by for an inspection. If I could see your manifest and passenger list?" Cp. Forveaux said as he tried to sound casual.

An hour later, Billy F0rveaux was really thinking that this was a bust when his heads up display got a group-tactic target highlighted a humanoid heat source down the hall behind what was the galley. Casually dropping his hand to the butt of his pulser, he gestured towards the galley. "Let's finish up with the galley then."

"If you insist. I don't think it's that clean, but we don't have anything to hide," the captain said, plastering the sickly smile back on his face.

Forveaux took two quick steps past the galley and slammed open a closed hatch. "I thought you introduced us to everyone in your crew?" he called out, anger starting to taint his voice. Two of his privates had pulled their weapons to cover them.

"Well, she's not really crew. An unruly child of one of the crew," Bryant started say, almost blubbering now. "Isn't that right, Jeanne?"

"Right. She a... cousin," his first mate interjected quickly. Her dark hair and skin showed the lie of that, as the girl in the closet had pale skin and dirty-blonde hair. Even under the dirt and tears she was obviously incredibly pretty.

"So you tied her up and threw her in the storage closet? With a gag?" Forveaux leaned down and carefully removed the gag. "Show me your tongue, girl.

Fearful green eyes looked at him, then she stuck out her tongue to show her barcode.

Bryant closed his eyes, as there was no way he was getting out of this now. He was utterly ruined.

"Terrance, why don't you escort this scum and his crew to the shuttle so we can brig him properly for slave-trading," the corporeal said in an almost snarl. "Girl, you're going to be all right. I promise you that."

* * *

"A single slave?" Sheila asked as she started pondering her new headache.

"Yeah, her name is Michi. They aren't really saying a whole lot, but I get the feeling that this isn't their normal operation, but more of an unsavory side-line. Since they were headed to Montana, maybe a private purchase?" Forveaux sort of asked as he looked at the young girl in uniform in front of him. His beefy six foot two inches loomed over her, even as he wished his dark hair was not sweat-slicked down from being in armor for over two hours.

The young girl cringed at his angered words. "You aren't going to send me back, are you?" she asked in a very small voice. She was an inch shorter than Sheila, with longer, ragged blonde hair.

"We won't let them harm you any more, dear," Sheila said with a careful smile. "Rupert? Could you make Michi here is comfortable somewhere?" As soon as the ex-slave was gone, she turned to Billy Forveaux and Angela Howard again. "So, how about we go about making sure that a slave buyer squeals and lets us know who his contacts are?"

Angela looked at her worriedly. "Are you sure? I mean, we're sitting on a disaster here and you want to add to the mess?"

"We have a bit of time and we're basically quite safe. I'm going to go visit our slaver and see if I can try to rattle some information out."

Billy Forveaux just nodded. "I wouldn't mind catching that bastard. I didn't say anything while Michi was here, but she was a body slave. And unfortunately knew exactly what was going to happen to her when she got to Montana."

Sheila's expression turned very grave. "Thank you, corporal. That will be all for now. Get some rack time before we make our move."

* * *

Sheila was standing across the conference table to the seated and shackled Captain Bryant Melvarri. "Captain, it seems that I am at an impasse. Due to your distasteful actions, you have landed me in this situation where I need to find out about your buyer and contacts. I can not offer nor broker any deals, but I would be able to speak on behalf to the court... If you can find it within your heart to help me take down the scum that preyed on your weakness to transport a helpless girl into the hands of an evil man." Her blue-green eyes seemed to gleam as her ichor sang within her blood, lending strength to her words even as she attempted to extol a valorous outlook upon him. "Are you willing to make up for your misdeeds in some slight way, Bryant Melvarri? To keep other girls like Michi safe from evil predators that want to use their bodies for their depraved sexual desires?"

The Solarian merchant captain could not believe himself. It sounded sappy, stupid... and like a punch in his gut. He was a ruined man and was likely going to go to prison for a very, very long time. An ugly thought of revenge flitted through his head, but it was his desire for doing the right thing that somehow won over. "Damned if I know why, miss, but I'll do it."

He then started to explain the planned drop off of the slave to the slip of a girl. Sheila analyzed everything and was setting up a plan. They had to catch the slave buyer red-handed, so that played into her into her thoughts.

An hour later, she was back in the Captain's ready room, explaining the plan to Angela. The red-head did _not_ look pleased. "So you are going to take the _Pretty Cowgirl_ in to Montana and actually go through with the transfer?"

"The evidence will be totally overwhelming by that point. The Montana security forces should be able to hammer him flat and get him to squeal his contacts," Sheila explained.

"But using yourself as the 'slave' during the transfer... That's insane!" the twenty-year old Midshipwoman exclaimed.

"It really should be quite safe. And I'm the only one that looks close enough to match the young slave, after all. So I'll play the part so that Mr. Burton can be exposed for the evil person he is and he can spend his last years in a prison on Montana."

"If you insist. The LAC from Montana should be arriving within three hours. I suppose it really is up to them if they want you to go on with your insane plan."

* * *

In fact, Captain Chersey was quite shocked at the idea, but had to admit that nailing a slave buyer with unimpeachable evidence was too good to pass up.

So the merchant ship _Pretty Cowgirl_ finally drifted into port. Captain Melvarri was once again on his bridge, licking his dry lips as he answered the com channel. "Ah, good. I understand the weather in the north has been balmy?"

"But the weather is always clear in space," the emaciated and very old looking man said on his personal screen. "So I take it you have my package?"

"That is correct. You are going to be coming up in a private shuttle, per the plan?" Melvarri asked slowly.

"Of course I am. I might be dying, but I'm not stupid yet," the old man snapped. "This girl better be all I was promised. And don't think to even double cross me."

"Of course not." And he was not. Not really, he thought to himself. When the channel was cut, he looked over the the ranking officer... who looked all of thirteen or so. "Well, it looks like he bought it. You've got your marines down in the mess, right?"

"With Chersey's own men with some stunners ready. Time for me to go play my part," Sheila said as she quickly walked out of the bridge. Minutes later, she was letting herself be tied up in fake bindings. The rags she was wearing stank and looked like they had been worn for weeks (which they had, as they were actually Michi's clothes.) In Sheila's head, she was going over and over, getting into her 'part' as the slave girl. Her features shifted subtlety, making her almost perfectly match the slave as her godly ichor followed her subconscious wish.

Thirty minutes later, Mark Hampton stepped aboard the Pretty Cowgirl. At his back were two thugs that seemed interchangeable. Billy felt a small tingle of fear up his back at the left one, who had flat and very cold brown eyes.

"About time. Where is Melvarri?" Hampton asked in a nasty tone. His pale, wrinkled skin looked unhealthy as age spots of the eighty year old man stood out against it.

"He, uh, had to take a com. Something about the inspector. I usually work down in the holds, sorry." The marine felt his hackles rise as the cold-faced thug gave him a once over.

"Well, he better show up before I get my girl. Come on," the cranky old man said.

Billy led them down the corridor to the mess hall, where Sheila currently looked like she was tied up to a chair. The lights were dimmed a bit, hiding that button cameras were set up to record the transfer.

"There she is. Kind of a cutie for a slave," Billy adlibbed horribly. That had to be on record.

"For the kind of money that Mesa asks, she better damn well be," the old man groused. He walked up and held her face up to his view by her jaw. "You're supposed to be damned well trained. Well, Kevin, grab her and we'll go."

That was when Kevin pulled out a pistol and shot Billy straight in the chest with a pulsar. "We've been had, boss."

Captain Chersey slammed open the door, pointing his own pistol. "Lay down your arms. You are all under arrest! This is your last warning!" he shouted. He barely ducked behind a counter as the thugs reacted with lethal intensity.

The thug Kevin Erstwhile had a horrible smile on his face as he killed one of the soldiers from Montana. The Scrag was quite willing to kill everyone here and then blow up the ship. After all, that was what Hampton had paid Mesa for him. And he relished killing.

That was when Sheila just moved. She slammed a single open palm against the old man's sternum in a stunning move that separated all of his rib's cartilage and robbed him of his breath before he could even land on the ground.

His merely normal thug suddenly blew up into meaty chunks as a Manticorian marine in full armor stepped into the doorway. "Surrender! You can't escape!" he shouted.

Kevin ducked behind a freezer locker, firing desperately to no effect at the marines. If he could get a hostage, maybe he could get dirtside and escape. That was when the freezer he was hiding behind suddenly slammed into his face.

"Manticoria! Get out of the way!" Private Marci Lomi called out.

She was too fast though, getting into hand to hand with the superhumanly genetically altered thug.

The battered thug sneered at the slip of girl. There was his hostage-

He screamed in agony as she kicked his knee and broke it even as her arms blurred in a set of punches that shattered his ribs.

"Stay down!" Oh gods, he killed Billy. His death was entirely her fault for trying to set up this sting.

The thug crashed into a cupboard and the then slid to the ground. As soon as he quit moving, the young Scion was rushing over to the fallen marine.

"Damn- that- hurts," the downed marine said as his hands went up to the smoking hole in his chest. His fingers were coated in blood and burnt flecks of flesh. It appeared his armor had not saved him. "Crap-"

He was _alive_. She could still save him. "LIVE!" she shouted, thrusting out her hand towards him, uncaring of the bystanders.

And something palpable answered her plea, as her ichor roared to life within her body as it channeled through the Amulet of Mercy and War. Legend coalesced and mended his life threatening injuries to merely bruises and third degree burns. Dangerous, but no longer dying.

"I saved him!" she called out with tears in her eyes as she feel to her knees next to the fallen corporal.

Private Lomi and all of the other men and women just looked her in shock as she _had_ saved Billy somehow.

Sheila then whirled on the mewling form of the broken man on the floor. Picking him up with one hand, she looked him eye to eyes as she wrapped the presence of War Itself upon herself. "What you know of the slavers had better be worth it," she warned him, causing him to lose control of his bowels. "So when the nice officers of the law ask, I suggest you talk. And quickly."

"Miss Manticoria, you need to let him go. You can't hurt him," Marci Lomi said desperately.

"I was just explaining myself to him. I had no intention of hurting him any more," she replied calmly even as she gently set him back down. "Captain Chersey, I believe these prisoners are yours."

"Yes, ma'am." And maybe after a while, he would actually understand what actually happened there.

* * *

**Chapter 10 - The Final Rescue**

"Captain Manticoria," Angela said across the channel from the other ship that she was now in charge of, "I've got an ugly situation developing with a few of the companies that are expecting their cargo on the _Pretty Cowgirl_."

"I was afraid of that. You read them the regulations pertaining to impounded ships that are caught with illegal cargo?" Sheila frowned as she saw the other Midshipwoman nod helplessly. "Well, refer them to me as the commanding officer. I've been reading up on interstellar law as it pertains to these sort of issues."

"Thanks, Sheila. I had no idea what to do. Maybe I should read up on those laws, too," Angela replied looking visibly relieved.

"Manticoria out," she replied.

It only took them an hour for her first request to filter up from the planet. Well, request was a bit mild. It was a demand for his priority cargo to be released or else.

Sheila had switched her her best uniform, then took the call in the captain's ready room right off the bridge. "Mr. Meyers?" she asked the portly man in a classical cowboy outfit sitting behind a desk.

"Yes, who are you? I asked to speak to the captain of the Anglicus," the heavy-set man asked. His bolo tie was keeping his collar tight around his flabby neck.

"Due to an unfortunate incident, I currently am the ranking officer of the her majesty's Ship _Anglicus_," Sheila stated politely. "I understand you are looking for the best and most expedient way to get your cargo released from impound?"

"What I want, girl, is that you will release my power generators so that I can get the South Billings power grid in place. I've already lodged a formal protest over your high handed actions that are keeping _Pretty Cowgirl_ from delivering my cargo!" he almost shouted.

"Ships that are caught carrying slaves are in almost all situations impounded. We could look at releasing your cargo after the merchant insurer agrees to pay the salvage fees to her majesty's government per the stellar accord of Frentue of 1562. That is why there are insurance clauses."

"Slaves? What slaves? _Pretty Cowgirl_ drops in to Montana twice a year with the most boring cargoes," Morton Meyers shouted, his face starting to turn a red from his anger.

"It appears Captain Malvarri had ended up in a bit of a financial pickle and took on the slave to try and make up for a late mortgage payment. That, along with the testimony of the boarding marines, will be brought before a Montanan judge. We take the Chernwell Convention very seriously." Sheila had yet to raise her voice. "I would be more than happy to negotiate a fair price to the insurer so they can release your cargo as quickly as possible."

"It's a firm out of Spindle, so it's going to take months to get a response," Meyers stated in a cold fury.

"Which is unfortunate that it will take so long, but as soon as we are able, we'll look at getting that released, sir."

His answer was to only to cut the connection, leaving her staring at the Montana planetary sigil. Her shoulders slumped a bit and then she sighed. Now on to her next call. She routed the next call to the planetary police and defense force. They seemed to be quite based on the old Texas Rangers or frontier sheriffs.

"Miss Midshipwoman Manticoria?" the polite cowboy on the far side asked wit his drawling tone.

"Chief Marshall Hollands? Good to meet you, sir. I'm sure you want to get our testimony about the incident at the edge of your system. The pirates that we took out are, unfortunately, all dead. But there ship is mostly intact. Per regulations, it is now considered Manticorian property, but I'll be frank," she started off with, "it's really not worth a whole lot to our navy. But it occurs to me that it would increase your local forces by more than fifty percent in tonnage. This is all really tentative, but I think that her majesty's government might be willing to sell it at a fair price. We might even be able to haggle some repair work from one of the fleet repair ships." _HMS Tornado_ should be back on station in a month or so, which was still Montana as far as Sheila had heard.

"That seems awfully kind, miss. Beg my pardon, but it seems like a bit too much to be true. That sort of deals cut us to the quick here in Montana in the past," Hollands replied as his large mustache bristled.

"Well, like I said, it's really not worth a whole lot to our navy. But one of the things that Manticore has found that if we're willing to fund a little bit of local stability, it ends up being one less place we have to worry about sending our merchant ships," she countered. "And a good trade usually ends up with both parties coming out for the best." She gave him a truly darling smile, dimples and all.

"Montana probably doesn't have the funds to buy even a poor warship like that, but it does sound a little more reasonable when you describe it that way."

"I can't speak for her majesty's representatives, but it might be possible to negotiate a mutually agreeable loan so that you can get some use out of the ship. If you like, I can at least forward our conversation to my superiors so that they can open a more broad conversation."

"I think we can do that, miss. Hollands out." The sturdy, but not fat, policeman looked over across his desk to the man sitting there.

"We'd like to look at transferring the evidence and testimony against Captain Malvarri and his crew over to you for prosecution. The young girl we rescued did ask us for asylum, which I'm sure her majesty's government would be more than happy to provide. Is there anything else, Chief Marshall Hollands?"

"No thanks, miss." Hollands cut the communication, then turned to his boss. "Well, Wilbur, what do you think?"

"I think she's hit a hornet's nest with a short stick. I've got Meyer's on my hiney like an unwanted boil wanting us to 'take back' his cargo while the planetary senate is all up in arms about a battle that happened in our system and we didn't even know about it," President Wilbur Peers said in a frustrated tone. "The problem is, she's got all her ducks in a row so I'm sounding like an idiot trying to defend myself. They ever clear up what that 'incident' was that left a Midshipwoman in charge of one of their war ships?"

"We got a peek at her ship's starboard side and she's got a big, gaping hole where we think one of her landing bays used to be. Could have been that the officers got themselves all killed." The policeman shrugged. "I've talked to a few of them setting up that call and they all claim she's done a decent job. They are just going to sit in orbit a bit waiting for relief to arrive."

"Can't rightly blame them for that. They probably lost a lot of good people."

* * *

Sheila had started rotating crew down to the planet in a week (sans any pay, unfortunately. She was quite locked out of the purser's programs and did not want to get into trouble by trying to crack the security) by the time the first relief ship arrived. It was a light cruiser named _Aphrodite_, under a very shocked captain when he found out why _Anglicus_ was 'back' here at Montana instead of continuing her patrol.

Captain Harris Marston was looking at the damage to the rear flank of the destroyer, shaking his head as his pinnace approached. "They lost almost eighty people?"

"Yes, sir. And they caught a pirate on their return to Montana, then confiscated the merchant ship that was being attacked due to them being slavers. Then proceeded to help the local law enforcement capture the slave buyer and wring his contacts from him. I don't think old _Anglicus_ has been that busy in fifty years," Lt. Commander Amanda Brenson noted.

The honorable Lt. SG Lady Michelle Henke listened quietly as her two superiors spoke. She was going to be bumped up from assistant tactical officer to be the tactical officer of the damage ship. This might actually boost her promotion up a year so that she could be an executive officer on another ship soon.

"I can't believe that they didn't have any riots over there. A midshipwoman in charge of a ship? Sounds like something out of a bad holo drama," Harris said with a rueful shake of his beaded head. There was only a little gray in its deep brown. He cut quite a dashing look of a navy officer. "I guess she passed her trial by fire anyways, eh Mike?"

"As you say, sir. Even when she was sent to Silesia she managed to miss most actions," the cousin to the queen noted as she was prompted.

"I guess this is the 1 % sheer howling terror that happens instead of 95 % boredom," Harris noted.

The pinnace turned to the very cramped secondary boat bay, docking smothly and effeciently. Just outside the hatch that showed the gravity warning labels, a midshipwoman and five marines all saluted. "Commanding officer of the _Aphrodite_ arriving," she called out in a young, but very strong voice as the bugle ended.

"Permission to come aboard?" Harris asked.

"Of course, sir! Welcome aboard _Anglicus_! Permission to ask for relief?" Sheila called out.

"You are relieved, Midshipwoman. If we could take ourselves to a conference room, we can see about getting this little issue resolved." He smiled at her very apparent relief.

* * *

**Epilogue: Midgard**

Marjorie Sylvester leaned back in her seat as she looked out over the snowswept mountains under the primary of the Asgard system. The room seemed to suddenly warm up, causing her to look over to see a quite startling figure sitting across from her. She sighed and spun her executive style chair back around

"What? No warm welcome from yer dear old dad?" the Aesir with hair and a beard of fire asked in a faux-wounded tone.

"Father, I thought you had decided that I was a total loss and worthless." Her dark eyes hid a quite deep anger at his presence.

"No, I just said you had nothing extraordinary that would propel you to godliness. And I was right. Here you are, sixty years later and still quite, quite mortal. Luckily, papa has a plan," the son of Loki explained as he pulled out a cigarette, lit it on his beard and started to puff it up.

"So who angered you enough to sic one of your many byblows onto?" she asked archly. Her faded red hair was starting to show gray hairs.

"A really old pest of one of Athena's brood. She didn't have the decency to stay lost forever," he replied testily as he played with the smoke, forming it into a little girl that was then eaten by a smoke dragon. "And she's starting to make a name for herself. I heard from one of my ears in Olympus that she's recently ascended to demigoddess."

"Oh? And how old is she?" Marjorie asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Almost fourteen, I think."

"Fourteen _T-Years_?" She blinked at his nod of acknowledgment. "Well, I think she deserves to be taken down a peg or ten then." All of her simmering anger was now directed at her new enemy.

And if it happened to get her further along towards godhood...

...then all the better.

* * *

**Epilogue the Second: Mesa**

It was a dimly lit office that they were meeting in, Albrecht Detweiler looked over at his closest adviser. "So, Joan, what do you think we should do about the Manties moving closer to our neighborhood?"

Joan Kubrick played with the ends of her dark chestnut hair in a move designed to show how calm she was of the situation. "I would not bother doing anything at this point. Our new fleet is still just barely in the design stages and the Manticorians are about to find themselves in a large war that we calculate they will likely lose."

The true leader of Mesa, Manpower and Mesan Alignment narrowed his eyes. "Considering how broken Haven really is, that might be a bit premature."

"Possibly, sir. But we need Haven almost falling apart after they've dealt with Manticore so they will fall to rebellion. Our plans, all in all, are proceeding along. Even if Manticore wins, they will be almost destitute. In fact, we can probably manufacture something out here in the Talbot Cluster just after they've won their Pyrrhic victory. Then the Solarian League can crush them quite easily and they'll both be finally out of our hair." That really was an enchanting idea, she had to think to herself.

"What about this new hyper-dimensional mathematics that Manticore has been touting? That really came out of nowhere," Albrecht noted as his dark eyes studied the public face of Manpower Ltd.

"I can't see how it could. I mean, it might be useful eventually with our own wormhole that we've discovered. But we really don't have the resource to exploit it at this point. I do wonder why Manticore is sitting on the thesis papers. That's a bit unlike them."

"Very well, Joan, we'll let them be. I would like some preliminary work to be set up in case we need to sic the Office of Frontier Security on Manticore." That would be a terribly brief war, of course.

Until the Solarian League fell and was replaced by something much, much better.


	2. Drums of War

**Drums of War** **Chapter 1 - A New Voyage**

A young girl woman in the uniform of the Manticorian Navy walked into the offices of a prestigious brokerage firm. The attendant behind the desk (purely there for because of prestige and to show that they could afford one) looked up to see the young ensign step through the door. The wood paneling along the walls gleamed warmly from the fine polish.

"Can I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yes, I have an appointment with Mr. Greene about an investment portfolio at nine o'clock," she replied.

The man looked confused, but nodded as he tried to remember where he had seen her face before. "Uh, let me check." A quick glance showed that Greene had a half an hour open for a Baroness Lynx. "Baroness?"

"Yes?"

"He's expecting you." He personally led her to a spacious office with the heavy-set man behind the varnished oak desk. "Mr. Greene, Baroness Lynx." Now he remembered, this was the young woman in the navy that had discovered the Lynx junction.

"Lady Sheila, if I may be so bold," Green said as he rose up and gave her a slight bow. He then held out his hand to shake hands. The vista of the morning sunlight flitting between the massive mega-skyscrapers was quite amazing with a cloud actually below them.

"It's good to meet with you so shortly. I'll be shipping out soon again and I don't have a lot of time." She gave him a quick smile.

"Yes, I understand you have a bit of money that you have come into and want to invest it into companies that are being set up to sell to some of the more primitive planets out in the Talbot Cluster?" he noted as his hand brought up her request.

"Exactly. Improving their lives a bit by using my money to help finance them upgrading their infrastructure should pay itself back in just ten years if things work out. And really, money should be used for a purpose. Not to just make more money. So I would like to invest in companies and funds that are going to be used to finance such upgrades." Really, Montana and the other planets out by Talbot could really use the aid.

"I'll see about drawing up your paperwork. How much money are we talking about?" Greene asked as he started to draw up his plans in his head.

"I have about three million Manticorian dollars at this point. I have several companies that I've researched that should be able to do the work well." Sheila started to launch into her very brief but exacting plans.

Exactly as her appointment was ending, she handed him the chit. "And here you go. Let me sign the preliminary paper work and I'll be off."

"Certainly." Green then handed her a pad to jot her name down and bio-signed it.

"If you don't mind, I've got to catch a shuttle in about an hour." With that, she was on her way.

The trip up to the space station _Hephaestus_ was fairly boring, in her mind. How quickly the fantastic became the mundane. She had lived in an era where it was only the elite pilots that could hope to get into space and now there was actually a learner's license for shuttles for thirteen year olds.

The civilian shuttle docked and had a good seal. This quickly led people to exiting the shuttle and picking up their luggage, of which Sheila only had her one large grav-trunk. Unlatching its remote, she had it follow behind her as she headed to the military only section. It was a matter of following her pad's directions.

The standard pair of guards were at the dock of the light cruiser that could be seen through the armored windows. The _Apollo _itself, lead on for the entire Apollo-class light cruiser. One of its missile ports was open to space as drones and hardsuited workers were replacing it.

The marine saluted and then barked out, "Your papers, please." He frowned as he took in her small row of awards and a very incongruous hyper-command pin on her uniform. "Lady Ensign Manticoria. Everything appears to be in order."

"If you could direct me to the bridge so I may give the captain my compliments?" she asked nicely.

"Captain Truman should be on the bridge. Let me com up and let her know you are on your way." It was unstated that it was just in case she got lost on her way up to the bridge they could then send someone to find her.

"Thanks, Corporal Maddings." She gave him a sunny smile that was all dimples.

After all, he had no idea that she had already memorized the basic layout of the _Apollo_ when she had learned of her latest post. So it was only a short trip for her before she entered the muted buzz of the center of the ship. "Ensign Manticoria, reporting for duty, captain," she called out while saluting. She had left her grav trunk behind in the hallway in a cubby.

Commander Alice Truman nodded. "At ease, ensign. I've heard some very interesting things." The blonde haired and blue-eyed woman was studying herself very intently. "I understand you are to be my assistant astrogator?"

"Yes, captain. It doesn't look like we are going anywhere right now though," she replied.

"Good. And correct, though the repairs are finalizing shortly. Drop off your luggage to your quarters and then report back to the bridge so you can being your familiarization of _Apollo's_ navigation systems." With that, she gave a sharp salute and then dismissed her newest officer.

* * *

_Apollo_ was just waiting on the finish up the missile mount repair and then for the rest of her new squadron to arrive. So Captain Truman had her crew undergoing simulator training as _HMSS Hephaestus _finished installing the new systems for the first week. _Hephaestus _broke them free at that point so that the captain could instigate what she considered 'proper training' out in the asteroid field.

Sheila was getting to know her superior, Lieutenant Androunaskis who was the head Astrogation Officer. He was a humorless man with a penchant for perfection. As fourth in command of Apollo, he seemed to take his duties far too seriously. Known as 'Andy' to his few close companions, he had been driving Sheila and the enlisted to distraction while occasionally keeping an eye on the tactical station.

The jaunty light cruiser was currently turning over four-eighty gravities, which was slower than Sheila's last ship at normal maximum, but quite spry for a cruiser.

The XO was currently in charge, as Truman wanted to watch the proceedings. So Lady Lieutenant Commander Ellen Prevost was currently snapping out orders to Sheila who happened to be the sailing master. "Bow down 40 degrees, starboard 8 degrees," she called out."

Sheila chimed back her response even as she perfectly followed the directions, much to the confusion of Lt. Androunaskis.

He currently was standing by Captain Truman as she studied the results of her work. "She doesn't come across as a brand spanking new ensign," he said in his gruff tone that seemed to match his dark coloration and looks he got from Old Russia.

"You haven't read her jacket?" the calm and collected master of Apollo asked curiously.

"I'm still having some of my computer technicians look over it, as some of the things look absurd. Inheriting command of a ship after all the officers were killed, granted a peerage for her work in mathematics and then dodging several assassination attempts... it sounds like some sort of bad holodrama." His dark beard gave him a very stern look. "She'd have to be living under a jinx."

"A jinx, hmm? Well, in fact, that was my first thoughts when I first perused it. I took it upon myself to contact PuBers to validate the information. The answer I got back was that her jacket was probably a little brief and light of details to keeps some top secret details under wrap." She just took in Androunaskis's befuddled expression with a tight smile. "In fact, I found out _I'm _not cleared to know everything in her jacket."

Andy shot her a puzzled look. "Wasn't she just a Middie a month ago?"

"So the records I can read state." Alice Truman kept watching the ongoing exercise quite closely.

And that disturbed the head astrogator quite thoroughly.

* * *

Two months later and _Apollo_ was now at _HMSS Vulcan_, where the _HMS Fearless_ was undergoing a final refit and restock of supplies and would then resume duties as flagship of a taskforce. The engineers were just finalizing some adjustments on some new systems that Sheila was not really cleared to know about, but she could tell that it had to do with the gravitic sensors somehow.

But Sheila was not worried about that. She was currently on leave and had decided to head down to the planet for a short visit. Quite a few people had tried to convince her that Manticore itself would be a much more pleasant place, but she wanted to go rock climbing and hiking in some severe mountains, not suntan on a beach or go boating, both things that she had done quite a bit of while attending the Royal Manticorian Naval Academy.

So she had a baseball cap on her head, shorts and a tank top along with a good set of hiking boots as she quickly and efficiently clambered up the near vertical cliff face. To the left of her, an icy runoff from the mountain glacier had given her some fresh water. So she was a bit startled when her private com went off. Holding onto the cliff edge with one hand, she pulled it out of her pocket. "Sheila here."

The male voice on the other side sounded slightly peeved. "This is Ranger Parkins with the Sphinx Preserve Rangers. Kid, quit hacking our emergency tracking frequencies."

"I'm sorry?" she asked as she fiddled with the ear piece with her one hand. "I'm currently halfway up a cliff and I'm certainly not hacking anything." There, now she could continue to climb. Which she did, smoothly and efficiently climbing almost straight up.

"We don't know how you are doing it, but your fake signal set off our A.I. software. No way does someone hike sixty kilometers in two hours and then continues on to climb at the rate 'you' are supposed to be going at."

"I regret to inform you that you are incorrect, sir. I'm currently on Mount Jarkosian, about 2,000 meters up from the base and I hope to finish up my climb her today in peace. If you can prove any maleficence on my part, feel free to press charges. But I would suggest very strongly that you might want to verify your accusations carefully lest I have to defend myself vigorously in a court of law."

"No listen here you dumb little brat. You're stupidity-"

"That is Baroness Lynx to you, Ranger Parkins," she snapped out before he could really anger her. The rock she was holding onto shifted, sending pebbles falling to the ground hundreds of feet below her.

The voice on the other side paused at that. "Very well, baroness. We shall 'verify' your situation and then press charges if you are interfering with an emergency function here. Parkins out."

They must have a tracker on every signal coming out of the planetary reserve park, she thought to herself in aggravation.

So she was not surprised when half an hour later an aircar casually floated into range. Just moments later, her com rang again.

"Baroness?" another voice called out, a female voice light with surprise and concern.

"That's myself. Are you in that aircar over there?" Sheila asked as she again hung by one hand and then waved with her free one.

"Yes, ma'am. If you don't mind me asking, how are you doing that?" the slightly freaked out voice asked.

"A bit of superhuman ability," she calmly replied as she continued her climb. She was almost at the top by now. Only one hundred meters to go.

"Do you mind if I watch?" the woman said. "I think I might have to record this so Reggie can believe this."

"Sure, go ahead. As long as you give me a ride back to the lodge," she replied impishly.

In another twenty minutes, she was finally on top of the mountain. Most of the really high ones were on protected preserves, but this mountain was actually a fair bit taller than the highest ones on Earth.

The ranger's aircar hovered over carefully and Sheila hopped the twenty feet over as its side door opened.

"I'm Ranger Atterson," the female called. "This is Ranger Parkins."

"And I have to say, Baroness Lynx, that I do owe you a very sincere apology. You must come from an even higher gravity world like San Martinos or something," the pilot called out.

"I accept your apology, Ranger Parkins. You were just trying to make sure that your emergency systems were functioning," she called back as the door closed, making the inside suddenly much quieter. She ignored his reference to her being from a high gravity world. If they wanted to believe that, more power to them. "I appreciate the lift."

"It's on Parkin's penny. He has to justify it to our boss," Atterson explained with a grin.

None of them saw a giant eight-foot long Treecat slink up to the top of the mountain, far from the treecat ranges. Brilliant green eyes studied the aircar as it flew off. The cream and rust red creature turned to the nearest treecat range to the north and in great, one hundred and fifty foot leaps, bounded down the mountain.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Deathly Duels**

The clink of glasses at parties really had stayed the same, Sheila thought to herself as she wended her way through Captain Harrington's party up on _HMSS Vulcan _for the recommissioning of the _Fearless_. As a matter of course and part of the task force that was going to be sent to Yeltsen's Star, most of the officers of _Apollo_ were here to mingle. Through the armor plast windows, the sleek form of the heavy cruiser shown with white spot lights. The curve of the space station filled the rest of the view, while Sphinx could bare be seen slipping out of view.

She noted the host being dragged off by Rear Admiral Raoul Courvosier. As a newly-minted junior ensign, she was basically here to be seen and not heard, as such august bodies of other admirals were in attendance.

"It is amazing how young you can look in a uniform," a dandy man in an expensive silk suit said. His ruffles on his shirt probably had more lace than Sheila's entire wardrobe.

"That is a problem of third generation prolong, from what I understand," she noted while subtly not stating her own actual age of fifteen years.

"Reginald Houseman. I am under Courvosier and the chief financial negotiator to Grayson," he said with a disarming smile.

"Ensign Sheila Parthenos Manticoria," she replied as she shook his hand. She snagged a glass of the fruit juice from one of the passing waiters.

"I thought I recognized you. Already an ensign? Moving up in the world, I see." He took a sip of blushing champagne from the fluted glass.

"In fact, I hear that she might make lieutenant junior grade by the end of this voyage," Captain Truman said as she intruded. "Mr. Houseman, a pleasure." The blonde haired and blue-eyed captain shook hands with the politician.

"Captain Truman. Also a pleasure. The queen is moving with some vigor on this deal. And I'm glad to see that the Admiralty is giving us fine ships like _Fearless_ and _Apollo_ to ride herd on the convoy. In fact, I heard they scrounged up money from a few private investor so we'll actually have another small freighter to join us." Houseman seemed quite pleased. "If Grayson can repay the loans, they might even make a very decent profit."

"I hope I do," Sheila said a grin before she took a small sip of her fruit juice. "I had not realized my investment was going northward with us, I thought it was going to the Talbot Cluster. But according to my Representative, they haven't negotiated any loans out there as such." And it appeared that some people had started to copy her investment designs.

"Well, the Talbot Cluster isn't quite as lucrative as Silesia. The markets are quite a bit weaker," the Liberal politician noted. "Though I suppose they also have less pirates, too."

"And their pirates are generally a little less well armed," Alice noted carefully. "In fact, I would say you were quite lucky out there to catch that one pirate you did get out there. My review of that fight was that it was a short, sweet battle."

"Well, anyone can shoot a ship running frantically away. After all, even an idiot like a Midshipwoman could do it. I mean, she did, after all," a gruff voice said as he interrupted their conversation.

Sheila's lips sealed tight as her eyes narrowed in anger. Slurs against her intelligence always set her off. "I warned them to heave to and they fired on my command as they fled."

The heavyset woman in the uniform of a Chief Petty Officer sneered at that. "Yes, shooting and destroying a pint-sized pirate was oh so hard. It must have taken quite a bit of effort for your little pea-sized brain to process those orders," the brown-haired woman said. Her hazel eyes were cold and dark. Her uniform had emblazoned her name on her breast pocket. Bannoman.

Houseman and Truman both looked shocked that someone would speak that way. "Chief Bannoman, that is not the tone to take to a superior officer." The captain of the _Apollo_ looked furious now.

The young scion studied her opponent carefully, then nodded to herself. "It appears you have a personal problem, chief," she finally said. Her fist unclenched as she took in the setting and the crowd. The chief petty officer was the _only _enlisted officer present among the large crowd that was starting to take notice of the event.

"I have a lot of problems with adolescent _ranking_ officers murdering people. It's just _amazing_ that there were no survivors to discount your version of events," the enlisted woman replied in a loud tone. Her emphasis on the term ranking rather than using the standard term of superior was a studied insult.

"Your comments go beyond the pale, Mrs. Bannoman," Sheila said very carefully.

Reginald Houseman looked confused for only a second even as Alice Truman took in a hissed breath.

"Are you demanding satisfaction?" Bannoman said in a mocking tone.

"It appears I must demand satisfaction. As I ship out tomorrow, it must happen forewith and immediately." Sheila's blue-green eyes were very hard as she stated the official words of the challenge.

Several civilians in the crowd of the part called out hushed whispers as they finally realized what was going on.

"It will only take a few minutes. We should be able to use the shooting range here on _Vulcan_ to settle the matter." Jenny Bannoman just smiled like a predator, showing her teeth against her weathered features.

* * *

The shooting range of _HMSS Vulcan_ was quickly cleared and the visitor's gallery was filled to the rim. The Regimental Sergeant Major of the marines presided, her dark features a contrast to her green and gray uniform. Sheila was wearing her dress uniform with its sword on one side and a standard issue 9mm pistol held on the other.

Bannoman had a custom pistol and belt that the master at arms verified as legal. She quickly filled all the clips with the steadied precision of long practice. The petty officer had her second, a civilian that looked nearly as cruel as she did.

"And who will be your second?" Shannon Ivorski asked from her place on the sidelines as per the Ellington Protocol. They would fire their clip until one or the other was unable to continue.

Alice Truman stepped forward. "I will be her second." Although she personally detested duels, in this case she could tell that Sheila would not back down and that this was wholly instigated by the enlisted officer.

"Thank you, captain."

The two duelist stood back, guns held carefully at their hips.

"Is there no way to reconcile your viewpoints?" Ivorski asked carefully for the record, a bead of sweat appearing on her brow. There were three admirals and a dozen captains of the list along with several dignitaries and nobles.

Honor Harington's brown eyes watched the scene in shock as her party was incredibly disrupted by the challenge. Nimitz was quite tense from all of the emotions lacing the crowd. At her side, Raoul Courvosier had a bitter look on his face.

"What's with the glum look?" Honor asked quietly.

"This is basically a legal, paid hit, captain. I've heard of Bannoman before. She's a ruthless woman that has left a trail of bodies behind her almost as long as Sommervale or Metois." His cherubic expression was very grim. "They'll probably cashier her for this, justification or not."

Honor felt Nimitz's tail flick over her shoulder easily, as he seemed to relax. "That's strange. Nimitz does not seem worried anymore. I expected his empathy to have him on edge here."

"Maybe he knows something we don't?" Raoul said lightly.

Both parties had stated that their grievances could only be settled in a duel. They started to walk apart as ordered by the master of the duel. Bannoman's boots hit the ground softly, but even Ivorski could not hear Sheila's standard leather boots. An energy seemed to crackle in the air; unseen but not unfelt.

Ivorski gave the signal by dropping the hankerchief and both figures spun to fire. The first bullet hit the professional duelist in her chest even as Sheila's head twitched to the side as she saw the bullet moving towards it. Another three bullets were fired from both, though only one more of the petty officer's even came close to Sheila.

The crowd exploded into instant hushed whispers as Sheila stood with her gun pointed. "Do you yield, Petty Officer Bannoman?"

Her opponent snarled from the ground as she tried to staunch her blood and stand up. "I can't." Her blood slicked gun was in her shaking hand, desperately trying to raise off the ground

"I don't wish to kill you, ma'am. Please-" the young scion was saying when her opponent suddenly caught on fire, purple flames erupting from her mouth and nose. Sheila looked on for a split second, then quickly glanced over to the gallery with an intense stare.

Ice-blue eyes met her own blue-green eyes calmly before the older red-head woman winked at her and then disappeared in a flicker of purple flame.

That galvanized Sheila to move, trotting over to the emergency fire gun to spray it over the convulsing body even as the sergeant major tried to put out the fire with her uniform coat. Bannoman's second was standing in shock at the sudden burnt carnage.

Captain Truman frowned as she moved over to the freshly extinguished body as medics checked it in vain for vitals. "A jinx indeed."

Sheila gave her a steady look. "Perhaps." Inwardly she raged, though now she had a face for her enemy.

* * *

"Admiral Lars," Queen Elizabeth's clear voice called out. She was currently sitting a blue chair behind her desk. Across from her was a very plain, wooden chair that showed a bit of her temper at the why she had called in the Fifth Space Lord personally. Blue and white tapestries covered the white polished wood as streams of golden sunlight from the setting sun shown in the huge bay windows. Her Treecat was sunning in the last pool of light on a couch.

"Your Majesty," Admiral of the Red Anton Vorstolki said as he tried to figure out why he had been called to her private office. He bowed quite deeply, going to one knee.

"It is good to see that your loyalty is shown, for I am a bit upset at your department," Elizabeth said finally.

"If you could be so kind to enlighten me, your majesty? Then perhaps I could redress this oversight," he said in a quiet voice. Damn Janeck for leaving him hanging.

"This is no oversight, but the specific actions to reverse the recommendations of an officer that oversaw a midshipwoman's cruise and then elevation into the Navy's officer corps." Dark eyes shown hard-edged in her anger.

"You called me here to go over the recommendation of a Midshipwoman to an Ensign?" He could not help the tone of disbelief that had crept into his voice.

"Actually, her commanding officer and his Officer Candidate Training Officer both recommended that she be mustered out of her warrant as a full lieutenant junior grade. Yet somehow that information and her recommendation for the Conspicuous Gallantry Medal got turned down and not even mentioned. Would you mind explaining that, Admiral Lars?" Her tone was no longer frosty, but a cold wind that hinted at arctic winds that could freeze a man to his bones.

Anton Lars had actually seen this played out a few times, though he did not think he would have to deal with a stymied promotion in such a subordinate position again while being the Fifth Lord of the Admiralty. Usually it would be someone trying to push their favorite up and wanting to cut a deal. "I had not actually heard that," he replied while he licked his lips nervously. It appeared the queen herself had decided to be Midshipwoman Manticoria's patron in the fleet.

"I would suggest that a review be done before her task force ships out in two days. Thank you for your time, Admiral Lars." It was an obvious dismissal and he bowed on his way out.

Anton frowned heavily, making him looking older than his features and gray hair would suggest. He was almost seventy years old, of course, and a first generation prolong. His driver and aircar whisked him away to the Admiralty House, the massive complex that housed the governing body of the Navy. He had barely sat down at his desk before he pulled a bottle of whiskey from his drawer and filled a glass. After fortifying himself, he put in a call to the First Lord of the Admiralty.

"First Lord Janacek here," came the video response from Sir Edward Janacek.

"This is Admiral Lars. I figured I needed to com you about my meeting with the queen," the master of the Bureau of Personnel said to his direct boss. "It was... different than I was expecting."

"She did not give you a hassle about missing the quota for expanding the academy or the fleet?" The burly admiral on the other side frowned at that, as if considering matters.

"In fact, she only touched upon the matter of a promotion and commendation she felt was not addressed correctly. She felt a quick review of the slighted officer was warranted."

"The _Queen_ called you about an officer's promotion?" Janacek sounded almost as confused as Lars actually had.

"It appears she intends to be the personal patron of this ensign." The Fourth Lord's tone was almost bland and as banal as it could be. He leaned back in his plush leather chair as he took in Janacek's confusion. The ice in his refilled drink tinkled merrily.

"What ensign has the Queen's ear? I thought her cousin just made lieutenant?" Always a consummate politician, he was trying to juggle in his head the different officers that could match the rank and connections needed.

"It's that damn Manticoria, Edward. You know, that girl that just got into a duel six hours ago? And her opponent spontaneously combusted? That must have brought her to her majesty's attention and the fact that she was not promoted to lieutenant junior grade right from her midshipman's cruise."

Janacek's face darkened in anger. It had been his suggestion to that review board that she was too young for the promotion out of zone, as he was not the biggest fan of the girl after her dreaded discovery with the termini had put him in bad odor with the queen. "She's gone too far!"

"She did not demand that we promote the girl, but that we 'review' the promotion and the recommendation for the medal of valor. And that'll sink me if I don't play it right. I'd forgotten the queen can review promotions at any rank. If this leaks to the newsies that we failed to give a hero of the navy a medal for taking out a pirate, rescuing a slave and capturing the slavers and the buyer..." Anton said his thoughts as they came to him.

"Is there anything you can do?"

"Grin and bear it," Anton replied carefully. "If I leave it unbiased, they will probably recommend her for promotion and the award. And then she is unlikely to complain any more."

"Such abject favoritism is unbecoming," Janacek said without a trace of embarrassment, as he was known to play favorites quite heavily.

"Well, she's headed out to Yeltsin's Star, so I doubt she can get into much more trouble." The Fifth Space Lord shrugged at that. Grayson should basically be just a strictly political affair.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Flashpoint Arrival**

"I stand relieved," Androunaskis declared formally to hand over his position to Sheila.

"You are relieved," she replied as she took over. She nodded to the two enlisted crewman of shift who were on the job as the Apollo scythed through hyperspace along with the convoy. Her eyes drifted carefully over the tactical display, showing the fourteen ships of the convoy, then back to the display forward which showed the 'frozen' streams of the purple and green gravity tides they they currently shot across hyperspace at a leisurely pace for warships.

That was of course due to the ten freighters full of technical goods to upgrade Grayson's and Casca's infrastructure, effectively gifts or 'bribes' to get them to join the Manticorian Alliance against Haven. Those ten ships were invisible to the naked eye, but their double sails of gravity were clearly visible as glowing snowflakes in the alien space.

Her superior officer left the bridge as Lieutenant Commander Amberson took up her position as the officer of the watch. The brunette in a long ponytail gave a soft smile to the two ensigns and Sheila. "Don't worry, lieutenant. I don't plan on taking myself off the bridge."

"That is comforting, ma'am. Though we are a bit closer to relief here if needed," Sheila replied as she nodded at the display. The green icons of friendlies were a bit heartening.

"If you don't mind me asking, what was all that about when BuPers sent your promotion through just before we shipped out?" Amberson asked curiously. She had been there when Captain Truman had handed over the promotion to lieutenant junior grade. The tactical officer had discovered that it made the young noble the youngest _ever_ lieutenant in the history of Manticore. She was, in fact, younger than most Midshipmen entering the academy.

"I'm not totally sure myself, but the timing just after I'd gotten into that duel makes me think that I was brought back to some-one's attention and they gave a shove to the promotion board to review it." She shrugged to show she was a bit confused as they were.

Midshipman Willister frowned as he considered that. "So politics?" He was a fairly dark-skinned and quite tanned from just graduating from Saganami. His brown eyes were quite lively and innocent at twenty-three years old.

Amberson gave the midshipman a warm smile. "You will find out there is a lot of politics to being an officer, Midshipman Willister. It's not something a lot of officers like, as they would rather be apolitical. But that really isn't feasible when you are put in charge of millions of dollars of her majesty's equipment." She was radiating the calm collected commanding officer she was.

Willister nodded as he filed that useful tidbit of information away like the dutiful trainee officer he was.

The other ensign, Jeffrey Cole, looked up from his stint as trainee tactical officer. "So, lieutenant, exactly what amazing innovation are you working on now?" He was a pale skinned kid with shocking black hair.

"Oh, I'm just thinking over the Iota barrier. I've been doing a bit of research on what components of a hyperspace undergo the greatest stress while transitioning and I think I've narrowed down which components would fail if the Iota barrier is a bit thicker than the projections expect. It doesn't actually match existing dimensional models anyways." At his incredulous look, she gave him a smile. "It's an interesting mental exercise. I doubt I'll be given a ship to tinker with."

"Only you consider massively technical hyperspace physics problems an interesting mental exercise, Ji- Lady Lt. Manticoria," Jeffrey said with a smile that faltered as he stumbled over her name.

Her blue-green eyes studied him for a long moment, even as she adjusted their course casually. "It seems I've gotten a nickname that's stuck," she noted in a soft tone of complaint.

Both midshipmen flushed and tried to look busy while the lieutenant commander raised a thing eyebrow. "Oh? I haven't heard that one."

"I think the newsies have started to call me the Jinx of Lynx," Sheila replied as she tried to make herself look busy.

"Well, I don't see it. And from what I've heard, the trade that is going into Lynx is starting to pay off already," Amberson said firmly.

The rest of the eight hour shift went quietly. As they were getting close to Yeltsin's Star, the captain and first watch were coming on station, relieving everyone from active stations, though they were to stay on the bridge as back up just in case.

The fleet traversed down the the intervening two hyperspace barrier walls in a fairly controlled passage in due consideration for the poor civilian crew that was not trained for crash translations. Having a very sensitive inner-ear was pretty hellacious, Sheila thought to herself. She could balance on a wire in a wind storm, but what hyperspace translations did had made her throw up through most of her previous hyperspace trips until she had managed to overcome that. Luckily she had figured it out before she was shipped off for her first real voyage.

The young scion was actually surprised at the seething activity, as there were huge space-stations and small fortresses clustered around the foreboding and lethal looking planet. It looked like it was time to meet the new neighbors.

* * *

Sheila stood at an easy attention as she led a group of enlisted Manticorian crewman on a tour of one of the Grayson LACs, _GSN Perry Warren_. The junior officer (who was easily twenty years her senior in age) in the light blue of their uniform was giving them an abbreviated tour.

"And this is our engineering section; power plant 1. As you can see, it's nowhere near as advanced as your own power rooms, but it does get the job done," Lt. Commander Weber said, breezing into the cramped compartment. Pipes seemed to come form all directions as everyone was forced to duck around them on the narrow catwalks.

"Sodium?" Sheila noted aloud as she spotted a warning label. "You are using liquid sodium as a... heat transfer mechanism to an electrical turbine?"

"Ah, a good eye. Unfortunately, our fusion technology is so very limited that most of our ships actually use fission. For the power requirements of our LACs, they are barely sufficient," he said with a hint of pride.

"Nothing wrong with that. That actually looks quite a bit more advanced for fission controls that I've seen in the archives. That's actually a very reasonable power output for a pure fusion tech base. How often do you have to replace the graphite-plutonium rods?" she asked quite curiously.

"Only every five years, though we re-provision every four months," the Grayson officer explained.

"They're using fission piles?" Senior Chief Petty Officer Milkins asked in derision, her brown eyes had a hint of almond shape to them, as she could trace her ancestry back to Beowulf. Then his comment caught up to her fore brain. "Every four month for provisioning?" That did not sound right to the Manticorians.

"Hmm. That's actually an amazing amount of endurance for a LAC, Commander Weber," the scion noted aloud. "I believe our LACs only have an endurance under way of about two weeks."

"Yes, but I understand that your LACs are a bit more high tech," he replied wistfully.

"I think I might have to bring that up to my superior officers. That sort of duration actually would help our own LACs, though we really can't field many right now." Sheila was really considering the matter.

Weber nodded as he led them out the small hatch and then down a set of twisting corridors, with pipes along one wall and across the ceiling. They were headed to one of the power room that handled the damage control for the forward (Beta) nodes.

Most of the other ratings were looking at things closely this time. Sheila shared a glance with Milkins again, both of them nodding to each other.

"And here are our impeller rooms. On such a small ship, we have combined them a bit so that it covers all six nodes." Lt. Commander Weber shrugged. "It does make the ship a little less survivable, but... it is a LAC."

"And hence, fairly fragile to begin with." Sheila was studying the impeller nodes. They looked very... different. "Say, how many gravities can she turn out?" If she was seeing that correctly, it was mostly likely only about a hundred and fifty gravities.

"Only three hundred and seventy-five. Our tech base is pretty crude, but we get things done," Weber said with a slightly haughty tone that seemed to ooze some sort of bad attitude to the visiting officer.

"That's not... I mean, that _should not _be possible," Milkins said suddenly. "The inertial dampner system looks totally scrambled. I don't even understand how it can work."

"Well, outsiders ignored us for so long as we tried to figure out modern systems. So we were forced to stand up for ourselves and figure this all out on our own."

Sheila was studying them closely as she leaned out over the catwalk. "I think you might have accidentally created something rather amazing, Lt. Commander Weber."

"I'm sure that your command will listen to you great _technical _expertise," Weber said with a barely concealed sneer.

"I see." And she did. It was obvious that Weber did not really believe she was at all competent. But she and the rest of the female crew had been told to be on best behavior and not 'flaunt' their gender at the male chauvinists. So she just grinned and bore it out.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Life and Living**

Mark Vors whooped out a painful breath as his back hit the mat. Somehow he made his body curl up and roll to the left, just beating a foot that tried to finish him off, even through the padding practice gear he was wearing.

"Come on, Markie! I've got a fiver riding on this!" fellow Private First Class Wayne Milton called out. He was a big, beefy young kid, looking all of sixteen which put his real age at about twenty-five.

"You bet that I would win against Manticoria? Are you nuts?" the rake thin marine private called out as he backed up.

"No, I bet you could at least tag her," he cat-called across the gym. Behind him a group of Spacer First Class pukes were being bawled out by a marine sergeant that had been roped into getting them into better shape by having them jog around the edge of the gym. They were on their third lap and lagging badly.

"Okay, that I might be able to do," the tanned man from Landing said. His hair was cropped so short it was actually hard to tell what color it was.

"Decisions, decisions," Sheila muttered as she put in her teeth-guard again. Well, she was not going to let him hit her. While the Coup de Vitisse was not her preferred style of fighting, she really was that much faster than just about anyone.

Her opponent was standing up to her, letting his greater mass and reach to allow him to weather her lightning fast punches and kicks. She spotted an opening, that he turned into a hasty grab.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that, he slipped his elbow into her side, much to her surprise.

"I guess you friend wins that bet," she noted. "That was sneaky."

"I've got the bruises to prove it," he said in a faux whimper. "So, milady, are you seeing anyone?" He was a bit emboldened by his success.

"Er, not currently. I guess you are offering?" Sheila held out a hand to shake from his victory.

"Sure. I'd be more than happy to hang out with you while they yodel to some thrash metallica noise."

She had a bad feeling about that. It sounded slightly violent.

* * *

Sheila was hanging out in the officer's Ward Room, reading a book while off duty when Surgeon Lt. Wendy Gwynn entered. "Ah, there you are. I've been meaning to catch up to you, Lt. Manticoria."

"Lt. Gwynn? Is there a problem?" the young scion asked, deactivating her pad.

"Not really. I just need to run a few more tests and I need more comprehensive samples, unfortunately. Let me grab a bite to eat and then we'll head down to my office," the older woman said, though she only looked to be in her mid-twenties. She was actually in her forties, of course and still had an appetite of a young woman. Moving into the attached galley, she quickly built herself a decent sandwich. Then she added chips and a pickle.

The daughter of Athena continued to nibble her carrot sticks as the older woman demolished the quite large supper. She was currently reading up on a tactical manual that Captain Truman had suggested. It was interesting, if a little limited and narrow in scope.

Twenty minutes later (and two Midshipman that grabbed a quick bite on the way to their shift) Sheila stood up to follow. "So why now to do a follow up on my physical?" she asked.

"I actually had some statistical discrepancies in some of your tests and forwarded them to the main medical facility of Vulcan for review. They sent them back, but I was in the middle of physicals for marines. They _always _whine when its their time, thinking that because they feel fine they don't need their annual physical."

They entered a lift to take them down three decks and into the heavily armored section that the medical bay. There were twenty-five beds in close confines, along with the very cramped offices of the surgeon lieutenant. Two small, but fully functional surgery suites were apparent, along with the dispensary near the main door. Gwynn led her to one of the surgeries, as they doubled as exam rooms when not in use.

The tests were a bit invasive and the surgeon lieutenant went carefully through a checklist of steps. "This really doesn't make any sense," she admitted. "I'm not showing even a bit of growth from your first physical from when you joined Saganami. The part that is really worrisome is that I'm not showing the genetic RNA markers for the integration for the prolong process. So as far as I can tell, the prolong is not taking."

"Not... taking? Is that even possible?" Sheila asked as she concentrated on the problem.

"That can happen if you had just finished a growth spurt, but that situation only lasts a few months at best at your normal aging speed before prolong. Now, you are fifteen years old, correct?" Wendy could not believe that the young girl had already almost matched her rank. Promotions were slower in the medical profession, but she was not that old.

"That's correct. It has been two years and five months since I underwent the prolong process." How could she not be growing at all?

"Your telemeres are not showing the artificial extension at all. Those are encoded so that as they wear down to specific genetic ages, then the additional extensions attach themselves. It looks like I'm going to have to send this to a specialist." Wendy put away the sealed samples after verifying the ID tags. They would be stored in the cold storage at near absolute zero.

"Which doesn't explain my lack of growth." Sheila had a thought that this was going to deal with her innate powers somehow. She slipped her tunic and jacket back on. Other than that, she was the picture of health.

Stepping out, she filled in her paperwork on a portable pad and then stopped as she saw Senior Petty Officer Milkins sitting in a waiting chair.

"Ah, there you are. I heard from Lt. Commander Hackmore that if I wanted someone to help crunch some numbers, that I should talk to you. He seems to think you are really top notch mathematician."

"Ah, okay, Chief Milkins. What can I help you with?" Sheila asked as they stepped out into the access hall.

"Let's head to my office cubical in engineering. I've been trying to decipher the numbers on the Grayson inertial compensator." The halls were full as shift change was coming up.

Technically, it was supposed to be Sheila's sleep period, but she had found she could go almost a week without sleep if needed. So she usually just grabbed a quick nap at the beginning or end of her sleep schedule. Lt. JG Eduard Sommers was starting to show some concern, but even he had to admit that she never appeared tired.

The hatch to the engineering officers slid open, showing the twenty cubicles of the work stations. About half of them were obviously open for anyone to use, but the other ten appeared to have been staked out by the senior petty officers and the ensigns.

"Here we are. I'm going to be using the overhead holotank, Ensign Maquis?" Milkins called out.

"Sure, go ahead, Carrie," came a voice from the next cubical.

Carrie Milkins (as that was her full name) nodded and brought up a wire diagram of the compensator, obviously created from memory. "I don't understand how they can get anything out of it."

"I couldn't either, but your dimensions are slightly off." Sheila had a very fine perception that came into play as she played with its numbers a bit.

"Hmm. I thought I was closer than that. But I see what you are saying. That changes the gravimagnetic dynamic a bit. Let me pull up my numbers and I show you where I'm off."

Sheila's eyes were taking it in. "We aren't seeing the whole equation here. This is like only part of it." Her mind was considering the matter. She brought up her own pad and spurted some data to the terminal. After a few minutes, she was starting to add and move information around.

The enlisted officer whistled as she saw the rapid evolution of the equation. "I think I'm following you. That adds a lot of previous information to the basis of the compensator. I don't think I've ever seen anyone do that before."

"It's all related. These were actually theories that other designers were using in their competing designs before Beowulf completed their work. They never panned out, but I don't think it was because they were wrong. They just weren't applying their ideas to the whole." Sheila's eyes were flickering back and forth between the different sections.

It still was not quite correct. There were translation issues in between. The scion started to disassemble the equations into discrete parts, using quick shorthands to indicate what sections that were missing _had _to do. She frowned as she sat back for a bit. A pattern was emerging that was nagging at her.

"Now I'm not following you at all. You are making this too long for just the compensator itself," the tiring petty officer said in a grumble.

"Why don't you order some snacks for us? I think I'm on the edge here. Something even bigger than the Lynx terminal." Sheila's hands were rapidly typing as she started to add more and more equations to fill in the incomplete gap.

The sandwiches and veggies were quickly demolished while they took a break.

Carrie was nodding her head as she worked her way through it. "I have to admit I'm very lost."

"I think I've got this. I just had to borrow some ideas from hyper physics to explain what is happening in real space. And if you do that, it looks like you can increase the inertial compensators by at least twenty percent." And if she kept at this, probably by over a full magnitude eventually. Though it would be in long, slow steps.

"Twenty percent increase? Are you kidding?" Carrie started to study the holotank of equations. Now that it was laid out like it was, she was able to work through the parts that had not made sense on the Grayson's design. "It does work. How did they figure it out?"

"Accidentally. We could just apply the information and we'd immediately get two to three percent. And I bet they would continue, but we can try this out." Sheila spun the chair around to look at the petty officer. "How about we take this up with Lt. Commander Hackmore?"

Cathie just grinned in reply.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Return to Purgatory**

Sheila was frowning twelve days later on the bridge. For some reason, Captain Harrington had taken three-quarters of the task force to finish the Casca part of the journey. Turning over the last five freighters to the local picket (two light cruises and four destroyers) had been relatively easier portion. She had a niggling suspicion that they had ducked out to relieve a stress in the negotiations between Ambassador Raoul Courvosier and the Grayson government.

The fact that there had been a request that had been passed down for anyone to come forward with any improprieties imposed by the Graysons. So to Sheila, that sounded like Captain Harrington had decided to forego being as pleasant any more.

Her own skin was thick enough so she really was not that worried, though she did report the rudeness of Lt. Commander Weber. She did note that he may have had more of a problem with her apparent age than her gender (which may have impacted his view of her.)

She was finding hanging out Mike Vors to be quite fun to hang out with. He had been quite shocked to discover that she was not actually old enough to legally drink. Sheila had just shrugged and then laughed as he commiserated her inability to enjoy a good lager.

"Approaching hyper-translation point," Space First Class Amy Farnesworth called out.

"Thank you, Miss Farnesworth. Lt. Androunaskis," she called out to her senior officer, "did you hear?"

"Thank you, Lt. Manticoria." Andy passed it along to the XO who of course passed it on to the captain.

Sheila handed the actual translation, playing with some techniques that actually made the reversion to normal space slightly less taxing on her inner-ear.

"Nice work, Manticoria," Captain Truman ordered. The blonde-haired and blue eyed commander was studying the holotank as impeller sources appeared deep in the system.

They were edging towards Grayson, over twenty-four light minutes away. Nine minutes into their trip, new icons flickered onto the tactical holotank.

"Contact. Three LAC class impeller wedges at about two point five light seconds. Call it 760,000 kilometers. They are on a convergent course," called out Ensign Jeffrey Cole from the tactical assistant slot he was currently in.

Sheila glanced over at the main holotank, then frowned as she looked at the gravity readings. "Lt. Androunaskis, permission to review the sensor information on the unknowns?"

"Do you have a compelling reason?" he countered back as he tilted his head a little bit sideways.

"Just a feeling, sir. I'd rather worry than be surprised." She turned back to her console at his nod, pulling up information. Her eyes were flickering over the gravitic readings. The impeller wedge was far too strong for the strangely efficient Grayson impellers and inertial compensators. Thirty seconds later, she flicked off those screens and moved back to the sailing master's controls in an almost blur. She hit the battlestations alarm and immediately called out, "Hostile LACs at six hundred thousand kiolmeters. I repeat, those are not Grayson LACs. Tentative identification matchs them to Masadan LACs."

Captain Truman looked up from where she was conversing in low tones. "That is impossible, lieutenant."

"LACs can easily be transported in a heavy freighter. In fact, I think you could tow an unmanned LAC behind a cruiser in hyperspace," she countered calmly. "Permission to transmit course change to put our wedge between them and us?" She looked impossibly confident at her station.

Alice Truman was considering her words carefully and going over the idea. "Course change, bow up forty degrees. Inform _Fearless_ of possible hostiles. Transmit a challenge to the targets. Now!"

The whole bridge had lunged into action, even as they wished they could quickly skinny into their skinsuits. Modesty was definitely secondary but they just did not have five minutes to get all suited for battle.

"Targest have refused communication," a warrant officer over in the com section called out. They definitely should have gotten something by this point. Especially with the point-blank demand for identification.

"Designate unknowns as Bogey one, two and three!" Captain Truman called out even as she gripped her arm rest.

The three warships were cutting an angle around the three hapless LACs to keep their wedges interposed. The Masadan crewman realized they were dead as they finally came into the longest range of their primitive missiles. With a terrified plea to their god, Commander Isaiah Danville shot their entire spread of missiles at the smallest target, the destroyer Troubadour. The box-loaded missiles streaked out on their sixty second flight-

-and the little destroyer and its consorts spat counter-missiles at the anemic enemy fire, destroying all but one missile at counter-missile range, then laser clusters took it out before it could attack.

On the bridge of the Fearless, Honor's dark eyes glittered in contained anger. "Signal the bogies to cut their wedge and surrender." When _Apollo_ had signaled an enemy warning, she thought that Alice was just being overly cautious. All of that thought had been removed as a lingering thought when they fired on her task force.

"Still no response," her tactical officer, Lt. Commander Rafeal Cardones, called out.

"Mr. Cardones," she said harshly, "you are free to engage." The captain of the list held her anger back by dint of pure will. Why would Grayson attack them so?

The two cruisers and one destroyer activated their lasers as they sharply maneuvered to present their broadside and wiped the three LACs out of existence with incredible ease. The primitive sidewalls of the LACs (laughable at best) presented no problem at this range.

Back on the bridge of the _Apollo_, Captain Truman turned to her astrogation crew. "Lady Lt. Manticoria, my personal thanks. It appears you were quite correct. And I promise you, we will settle this."

* * *

Sheila was in the gym again, doing some resistance stretches after her shift ended. The atmosphere smelled of fear to her overly sensitive nose. Quite a few navy and marines were taking time at the punching bags.

"I'm pretty sure the wall did not deserve that much frustration," Mark called out as he walked over from where he had been lifting weights. He scrubbed his hair of sweat as he grinned at her.

"Hi, Mark! How's your unarmed practice going?" she asked while answering his grin. She flipped herself around to push with her hands against the very corner of the wall with her back bent over and staring upside down at the wall. Her muscles rippled under her training unitard as as she exerted over a thousand pounds of force against the wall in a very awkward stretch.

"Fine, fine. Now that I've started to practice with you sometimes, my form has picked up remarkably," he replied. "So what do you think of the situation?"

Without any apparent strain, she walked back up the wall with her hands and stretched left and right, touching the ground in front of her toes with the flat of her hands. "It sounds grim. Admiral Courvosier death and the loss of _Madrigal_ was a huge blow." She wondered if she mention the stonewalling that they were running into with the Graysons, then decided not to. Not that it would stop that rumor going around.

"Do you think the Peeps are ready to start a battle here?" he asked slightly worriedly as he started to shadow box.

"No, I don't think so. I get the feeling this has 'shadow operation' writ large. They might be providing some hefty metal in the form of a couple of cruisers but its in a clandestine way. But if they were really serious, we'd be fighting our way to Grayson orbit or running to Manticore for reinforcements. This is indirect so far and they haven't let us see their actual ships." After her toe-touch exercise, she started to do cross-twist ankle touches.

That was when a basketball came rocketing over at them, where she caught it one-handed before it could hit the back of her head. "Hey! Watch it. I have bridge duty in an hour," she yelled back, then tossed the basketball to swish the ring for the impromptu game going on at the far end of the gym.

"You just swished from over a hundred feet away," the rake-thin marine exclaimed. Mark knew she was athletic, but that was actually ridiculous. "Are you- And I don't really mean to intrude, but are you a genie?"

She decided to prank him slightly. "No, not a djinn. I'm a 100 % bonafide Greco-Roman hero-type!" She put her hands on the floor again and then lifted her feet off until she was doing freestanding vertical handstands. She had to laugh at his flummoxed expression while she was upside down. "No, I'm not a genie. No genetic engineering in my background that I know of. It was pretty primitive on my home planet when I was born." A deflection of the truth yet again, using the truth. Earth had been rather simple in comparison to modern genetics after 2,000 years.

"Ah, sorry. It's just, you are incredibly athletic. I mean you do things I don't see from people from Sphinx or Gryphon, which are both heavy gravity worlds." With a shake of his head, he started to shadow box again.

"I would call myself divinely gifted," she said diplomatically. After fifty handstands, she flipped to her feet. "But I really do have to be off. I need to shower and grab some reports from my bunk."

"Well, I'll see you here later? Maybe we can do some more Coup de Vitisse," Mark said eagerly.

She blushed slightly. "That sounds fun." She waved to him as she trotted through the exercising men and women.

Only a minute later, Mark's friends wandered over. Wayne was just shaking his head. "Markie, you are amazing. You going to go all the way with her?" he faux-whispered crudely.

"Of course. She is so totally a fox. Janet is just not cutting it until we get back to Manticore. She doesn't want it to be just a physical relationship And we won't even have to worry about regs interfering with an officer. She's really flexible. And I think she's untouched. So double score," Mark 'Markie' Vors said with a lecherous grin.

His two friends started pushing him between the two, never noticing that Sheila had slipped back in to the gym to ask him a question. Her eyes glittered for just a second, as tears threatened. But she would be... was stronger than that and just turned and walked into the showers.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Desperate Measures**

A shrill alarm sounded in Sheila's double bunkroom, actually waking her from her sleep. She looked at the time, realizing she had only been asleep for about half an hour. She hit the accept on the com. "Manticoria here."

"You are needed in the captain's briefing room, double time. There's been a situation," Lt. Androuvoskis ordered. "That is all." The click of the disconnection was quite loud.

It could not be a battle, so it must be something they were not wanting to worry most of the crew. She threw on a clean undress uniform and trotted down the hall at a fast rate, passing enlisted crewman. Those crewmen only saw a black blur, as Sheila had inadvertently tapped into her ichor and going well over two hundred kilometers per hour.

Captain Truman looked up at her briefing room door opening. "That was rather faster than I expected. At least you get points for promptness," she said with a smile.

Lt. Commander Lady Ellen Prevost looked up from where she was reading a data pad. "Sit at the end over there. You've managed to beat just about everyone." There seemed to be only blonde women at the table until the male and dark-haired Lieutenant Androunaskis showed up.

The rest of the command staff and their assistants showed up excepting the assistant tactical officer, crowding the small briefing room. Lieutenant Commander Charles Hackmore and his engineering assistant were the last, as they had been in the middle of an issue with one of the power rooms.

"Let's get started." The blonde captain of the _Apollo _looked over her crew down the reflective slate-black table. Somehow they seemed to have picked up that something had happened. "There has been an incident down on Grayson. Captain Harrington was cutting through the political opposition by meeting directly with Protector Benjamin Mayhew." She smiled grimly. "She had let them know in no uncertain terms that she would speak to him or she would be forced to leave Yeltsin with our task force." The woman at the head of the table held up her right hand to forestall any exclamations as the officers stirred. "In all confidence, she had no intention of doing so but she felt that she had to get their attention. Mayhew had agreed to an informal dinner meeting."

The rows of taut faces at each end were puzzled for the most part, though Lady Prevost still looked grim enough.

"There was a coup attempt during the dinner. It appears that assassins were sent to kill the Protector and his family. The murders were supposed to be laid at Captain Harrington's dead feet." Hard blue eyes looked across the listeners carefully. "They failed by the smallest margin. Captain Harrington appears to have helped foil the attack, but has been grievously wounded. They are not sure she will awaken."

"So you have taken command of the task force?" Lieutenant Commander Amberson asked cautiously.

"That is correct. While I feel I am more than competent in the position, I do wish that Captain Harrington was here, as we are going to need our best tactical mind to save Grayson. In the meantime, we may have to shift command functions temporarily to _Apollo_. That means instead of receiving simple orders to follow, you will have to think about how we will best use our resources. I want all department head to meet with their teams and give me a readiness report and plans." Captain Truman smiled thinly. "I understand you don't have any orders to give out yet, but I don't want to drop this on you if we have to head into battle immediately. Any questions?"

All of her senior officers shook their head. Sheila thought for a long second, then raised her hand. "Captain? Would you consider it absolutely critical that Captain Harrington recover?" The nape of her neck was prickling.

"Yes, absolutely. She has greater tactical and battle experience than I do," her captain responded.

"Then may I have permission to take actions to correct her infirmity?" she asked casually.

Alice Truman narrowed her eyes in deep thought. "If you can do so, then yes."

"It should not take long. Do you know if she is back on _Fearless_ or still groundside?" the scion of Athena asked clearly.

The blonde XO, Lady Prevost, just looked at the captain as she nodded. "Captain?"

"If she can do it, let her. Captain Harrington has been transferred to _Fearless_, lieutenant." The captain of the Apollo then stood up. "Dismissed. Manticoria, once you are done with your mission, I want to speak with you."

There was a rumble of acknowledgments as the officers broke up to get back to their duties. Sheila quickly and efficiently walking to Boat Bay 1. As the ships were quite close to each other, she commandeered a cutter and a copilot.

"How many G's can you handle, Midshipman Garrett?" she asked the young man who was adjusting his controls for his slight build and height. They were both in their skinsuits, jut to be on the safe side.

"I can handle up to five G's pretty easily. We are cleared to depart," he called over to her. His brown eyes seemed to hold a lot of questions.

"We are clear. Docking collar is disconnected. All mooring points unplugged. Thrusters engaged and _Fearless_ acknowledges our arrival in fifteen minutes," she reported.

The slim, purely reaction thruster shuttle rumbled to full life as it headed to the largest warship in orbit above the ominous green-gray planet below. They passed the lone destroyer of the ad-hoc squadron and were soon swallowed by the massive boat bay.

They were met by the slightly older Lt. Commander Rafael Cardones. His ready, if taut, smile preceded him. "Lady Lt. Manticoria. I understand you were coming, though Captain Truman didn't really say why." His short cropped black hair was sticking out under his black beret even as his pleasant eyes studied the very strange sight of a hyper-command pin on her unwomanly chest.

"That's is correct. Mr. Garrett? I should be ready to head back to Apollo shortly. Lt. Commander Cardones, is Captain Harrington still in surgery?" Her voice was quite clipped, as what she was going to do was going to rock the boat, so to speak.

"I take it you want to talk to our surgeon? Fritz, uh, Lt. Montoya isn't really able to do much for her arm or eye. And there's some internal hemorrhaging in the cranium. But if she survives the next twenty-four hours, she should pull through," the young officer said to the much younger and more junior officer.

"But she's still alive, correct?" she asked intently as she clipped her helmet to her utility clip of her skinsuit.

"As far as I'm aware. This way," Rafael said, directing her to a lift. The doors closed behind them as he punched in the destination code. The lift only had to travel up five decks. The rest was a three hundred foot walk to the infirmary.

Surgeon Lt. Fritz Montoya looked up from where he was finishing up his post operation reports. He was still in his baby blue surgery scrubs. "Commander Cardones?" he queried.

"Lt... I mean, Lady Lt. Manticoria was sent over by Captain Truman. Though I'm not sure why she's here," the trim, younger officer said to the surgeon at his desk station.

Sheila was looking around the starkly lit medical bay. The white walls were painted a soft white that was easy to clean while the robotic surgery waldos were folded up against the ceiling. "Why, hello stinker."

Nimitz turned at looked at her with intelligent green eyes. He suddenly seemed cautious, but slunk over with the grace only a six-limbed Treecat had from where he had been sitting next to Honor on her bed. He put his truehand on her calf for just a second.

"Yes, I do think your captain needs a bit of help." With that, she headed back to the only occupied bunk, stopping at twenty feet away. The form in front of her was slowly dying, as the sonic weapon had torn up blood vessels in her shoulder and smashed Honor's cheek. Blood pressure was slowly building up in her cranium.

Sheila had not done this since she had been gifted with a new relic. Her ichor hummed within her blood as her legend awoke like the center of a storm. The owl amulet under her tunic warmed up.

Nimitz hissed in shock as he felt something immense happening to his empathetic sense.

And the terrible, lethal wounds across Honor's body stitched together at an impossible pace, leaving just bruised flesh behind. Her vital monitors built into the wall by the head of the bed suddenly stabilized, her heartbeat growing stronger and more steady.

"A little doped up there. Let's make sure you are all right, hmm?" Sheila said even as Fritz and Rafael walked up. With a mere spark of legend in comparison to the healing of just a moment before, she negated any drugs in her system that could be impeding her wakefulness.

"What are you doing? She is not going to wake up with the wounds she has," Fritz said in an angry tone. And that's only if the quick heal actually managed to save her life.

So when Honor groaned, he looked shocked. Nimitz landed on her bed and then thumped onto her chest. Fritz headed to her bedside, checking the biometric readings much closer.

"I couldn't save her eye. I'm not yet powerful enough to regenerate organs or limbs," the young scion of Athena said softly.

"You did this-? How can anyone do this?" the lt. commander demanded incredulously.

"You can consider this a divine miracle, if you like. She will live, though the bruises will probably take a few days of quick heal to handle," Sheila explained as she dropped into the relaxed parade rest.

"Rafe? Fritz? The last thing I remember is being shot. Did the Protector live?" Honor demanded in a pain drenched voice. She sounded confused even as she started to pet her very demanding Treecat, who started purring happily on the white covers on her lap.

"I- Welcome back, Honor. It appears you are going to live," Fritz said as she started to examine the bandaged wound on her shoulder. A touch on the edge had released the seal, showing only deep bruises instead of the burst blood vessels.

"Yes, ma'am. He's been very forthcoming on what had happened. His palace security is investigating the assassination attempt as quickly as they can, but they haven't turned anything up at this point. "Now, lieutenant, why don't you explain what just happened here. This is not a request." His tone was quite unhappy.

"I supernaturally healed her of her most critical wounds." She just smiled at the incredulous looks from the three humans. The Treecat was supremely unworried about their conversation. Sheila did note that Honor looked confused as she looked between Nimitz and herself. "Obviously, this is not an unlimited talent, but I felt that the captain's health was important enough to warrant me revealing this capability."

"That is... a lot to take in," Fritz said slowly. "I've never heard of anyone with such a strong faith healing ability."

Her blue green eyes studied the surgeon in his scrubs for a long moment. "I did not use faith. This is mine own power," she finally said in slightly archaic English.

"Yet you said- supernaturally." Rafe Cardones was trying to puzzle it out, but he did not have quite enough pieces.

"Well, demigodesses do have powers beyond normal men and women." She gave them a moment to let it sink in. "My mother is... was Athena Parthenos, Goddess of Wisdom and War."

"That actually makes some sense of your impossible grades. You have an advanced intelligence, don't you?" Honor asked, even as Nimitz seemed to give her a very piercing look that begged for his questions to be answered. "Does the queen know?"

Sheila actually had the presence to blush. "Um, yes. She and the prime minister are quite aware. The midshipman that tried to kill me back in Saganami was transformed into a fire giant and we did several impossible things on the recorder. So she asked me to explain it and that's when my elder sisters showed up. As in pop they showed up in all godly glory and glowing." In a strangely shy manner, she seemed to reach into a cloud that appeared in front of her. Pulling her hand out, she had a crackling lightning bolt gripped in her hand. "Grandfather gave me one of his lightning bolts." The light flickered in a blinding display.

Fritz just swallowed soundlessly. "That really is very convincing." Down the row, his assistants non-commissioned officer medical assistants just gaped at the impossible display.

Honor slipped her feet out of the bed. "Well Fritz, I guess I better get back to work. I feel like I've gone three rounds with Sgt. Major Babcock. And lost as usual."

"Well, I guess I can prescribe something for the pain and the bruising. The quick heal should handle that fairly easily." He gave Honor a quick grin.

Sheila put away her lightning bolt, dimming the room dramatically. Nimitz gave her a quick hiss to show his displeasure. She gave him a direct look. "It was the best way to explain it."

Nimitz's eyes stared at her for a while then he nodded. He hopped from the bed and rubbed his flanks on Honor's legs, entreating her to pick him up.

"I, er, sorta need to report back to Captain Truman as soon as I'm done here," Sheila said in an apologetic tone.

"Well, I think it can wait for me to get a uniform on and then we'll have a full conference." The captain's tone brooked no discussion on that matter.

* * *

The conference had been startling for some people and very unpleasantly embarrassing for one demigoddess. They were all gathered in _Fearless's_ main conference room around its shiny black oval shaped table, display panels inset and ready to use.

Captain Alice Truman studied the flushed face of her assistant astrogator. "I can see why that does not come up in casual conversation," she note wryly.

Captain Honor Harrington snickered even as she pet Nimitz while he lay on the table in front of her. "Which is why this conference is only for ship captains and my XO."

Commander Alistair McKeon raised his eyebrows up quite a bit, so that it almost touched the edge of his white beret. "I'm still wondering if I am dreaming. But I'll just have to trust you, Skipper."

"I think its rather immaterial to what we currently face. While getting you back, Honor, has been wonderful, I'm not sure what Lady Lt. Manticoria can do beyond what she has already shown," Commander Andreas Venizelos noted aloud.

"I can't just magic starships away. And while my mind is my strongest ability, I haven't really earned enough experience and position to apply my intelligence to its maximum," she replied truthfully. Her eyebrows lowered in a crunch of thought. "I do keep becoming smarter. I would hazard that I'm nearly twice as smart as I was when I figured out the Lynx terminus."

That caused all the senior officers to narrow their eyes in consideration.

"It appears I will just have to ask you if you think you can aid or accomplish tasks then," Captain Truman said softly. "Would that be satisfactory, lieutenant?"

"Eminently so, captain." Sheila relaxed slightly at that.

Honor slouched in her seat slightly, rubbing her hand on her chin. "So on to other matters. Alistair, _Troubadour _will accompany the unloaded freighters to the hyperlimit as they head back. They should be ready to depart in three hours, I believe."

Venizelos nodded. "That's right captain. They are more than happy to be off. We are effectively at 100 % combat ability, so I think we will be able to defend ourselves until they summon reinforcements."

"Should we send _Troubadour_ home to get some heavy metal, Captain Harrington?" Truman asked. "She can make the passage in about ninety hours. Much faster than the merchant ships could."

"A thought to consider. Though with our three ships to what we can estimate as two of their cruisers..." Honor studied the soft fur of Nimitz for a long second. "No, I think I'd rather keep our power concentrated. Rafe? What is the situation down on Grayson?"

Rafeal pulled up a display. "It's pretty hectic down there since the attack on you and the Protector. Information is starting to leak out that this appears to be some sort of internal coup attempt. Information had pointed to Palace Security, but the news sources are backing off from that. It appears it was just someone pretending to be security. Someone with insider information, so that points to someone in power."

That caused all of them to frown at that. Getting caught up in the middle of a violent change of government was totally unexpected. That could have turned out bad for them and their war efforts.

Honor shook her head at the figuratively dodged pulsar. "Be that as it may, we still have our duty. And that is to defend our ally."

That is when Captain Harrington got a call from the planet, transferred over from the bridge. It was Protector Benjamin Mayhew that appeared on the screen that was transferred from the bridge. "Protector Mayhew, a pleasure to see you again," Honor replied happily through the dull pain of her bruises.

"You've recovered remarkably, I see," Benjamin said as he visibly relaxed on his side of the view screen. "I had been afraid that you had saved my family at the expense of your own life."

"It was a miracle," Honor said with just a hint of droll humor. "Unfortunately, my eye could not be saved. And I'm part of the minority of humanity that can not regenerate." Her remaining eye did see a start of shock from the young lieutenant. And the flash of honest regret that was on her face and her emotions. In fact, her emotions were startlingly clear compared to the other's she had felt through Nimitz. Of course, this business was all new to her.

Sheila looked over at Honor and her Treecat, feeling that she was missing something of a communication happening there.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you are mostly recovered and saddened by the loss of you eye. We are currently in the middle of interrogating the assassins that Nimitz left alive. Unfortunately, most of the ones you hit are quite dead," the Sword said with hard eyes. "Clinkscales is currently with them himself. If there's anyone that can find out what was happening, it is him."

"But I assume that you call at this point is about that the problem we discussed has been removed?" The queen's captain had a hard eye from the repressed anger she felt at him.

"So to speak. I've assigned Admiral Garrett to the command the static defense. His replacement, Admiral Wesley Matthews, at Central Command, should be far easier to work with," the Protector explained. "A better way than to just cashier him." He shrugged at that.

"I think I can work with that."

* * *

**Chapter 6: First Battle**

It was just fifteen hours later that the task force was heading out. The whole crew was incredulous that the Masadan's had managed to build a base here in Yeltsin, but they had. When Truman and Harrington had been informed at Central Command, they had taken immediate steps. The base was at the large gas giant named Uriel. Though technically, it was on one of the moons named Blackbird. So when the base had been discovered after the Masadan sympathizers had been revealed, it had been a mere matter of deciding how to neutralize Blackbird.

Lieutenant Androunaskis and his team oversaw this operation with his typical method that was just shy of sending his non-coms into fits. They were basically waiting as the Grayson fleet of destroyers and LACs led the trio of Manticorian ships out to Blackbird, much to the displeasure its commanding officer.

Strangely, no Masadan ship had appeared yet, which had Sheila personally worried. She professionally maneuvered to slip _Apollo_ and their sister ships into a layered defense just before they came into the powered missile range of the ice moon. Captain Harrington definitely knew her business.

That was when the Masadan base launched a heavy salvo of thirty capital class missiles. Each one was double the size of anything that even the Manticorian ships could fire and they put all that extra mass into a dangerous mix of offense and power. But the layered defense that Captain Harrington had planned for the attack was working perfectly, picking of missiles in threes and fours rapidly. _Troubadour_ and _Apollo_ were part of the second layer, of course and then the laser clusters on all three ships worked in a tightly knit fashion to finish off the remains.

Lieutenant Androunaski had incredibly tight lips at his command station. "That's more missiles than Captain Harrington planned for," he said casually. He was trying to exude the utter calmness of a commanding officer, but it was a bit forced.

"Second wave," Lieutenant Commander Lady Ellen Prevos called out. "Another thirty missiles at exactly 34 seconds."

Androunaski nodded at that, his normally dark skin slightly pale. "They can't have many more." His voice stated that he could not believe they had that much.

Midshipman Tony Willister looked very rattled. "Do you think the ships will be able to handle that many, sir?"

"Oh, there's an element of danger, but we've taken all the right steps to minimize them," the Astrogation Officer explained. "Really, the only thing we could have done to be in less danger would be to use fractional .c bombardment. And we really need information on their cruiser or cruisers."

"Third wave," the blonde scion called out. Another 34 seconds, just as expected.

Everything _seemed _to be working perfectly fine one of _Apollo's_ laser clusters failed to localize and take out five missiles on the second wave. The computers on all three ships just could not stop to finish them off, using the barest resources they could quickly scavenge.

Two missiles streaked in and fired at short range. _Fearless _tried its best, but its sidewalls only degraded or bent away all but three of the bomb-pumped, gravity-pinched lasers. The ship shuddered under the attack, as a missile bay and laser mount were blasted out of existence. The last hit was the most grievous, as one her Alpha Nodes was basically vaporized.

"That was the last of them," Captain Truman said with a release of invisible tension. "What happened, Ellen?"

"Software overload or glitch in the timing, I think," her XO replied while shaking her blonde head. "Bad luck, basically."

There was nothing more to do as the combined fleet of Manticorian and Grayson ships came in closer and closer. Sheila could just about feel the tension increase. The attack would likely happen within three minutes-

"Contact!" came the shout from the plotting station.

"You are free to attack," Truman shouted.

The next four minutes was a frenzy of short range laser fire at a range that no sidewall could stand up against. Each ship took at least one hit and four of Grayson's LACs were just destroyed along with the Grayson destroyer _Saul _as they ravaged the fleet of Masada in return.

They were all caught unaware when the Peep destroyer _Principality_ came streaking around the planet _behind them _to attack the _Apollo_.

* * *

"Stand by," Commander Theisman whispered as his ship flashed around the craggy moon with ever gathering speed. The base's sensors still fed his plot, and his teeth drew back. "Stand... by... Now!"

* * *

"Skipper! Astern of us-!"

Lieutenant Commander Amberson's shout wrenched Commander Alice Truman's eyes back to her display, and her face whitened in horror.

"Hard a-port!" she barked as Apollo was already swerving wildly in response.

Sheila would have made it against a laser barrage, but _Principality_ was firing missiles, not direct energy weapons. She just could not _make _the ship turn any faster and the firing solutions were not even primed for such a quick response. The laser clusters did not even get a chance to fire.

And then it was just too late. The destroyer behind her had timed it perfectly and her first broadside exploded just behind the open rear of _Apollo's_ impeller wedge. X-ray lasers opened the light cruiser's port side like huge talons and damage alarms screamed like damned souls. Amazingly for having come down that attack vector, it only took out a single Beta Node.

A second broadside was already roaring in and a corner of Captain Truman's mind wondered why the Peep was using missiles at beam ranges, but she didn't have time to think about that. Her cruiser clawed around, interposing her sidewall, and three of the incoming missiles ran physically into it and perished before their proximity fuses could trigger. Five more detonated just short of it, stabbing through the sidewall into already shattered plating, and a seventh streaked all the way past her and detonated on her starboard side. Smoke and screams and thunder filled _Apollo's_ bridge and Truman's face was bloodless as her starboard sidewall went down and the Havenite seemed to close in for the kill.

But _Principality _flashed past them and turned to fire at _Troubadour_, trying to cripple as many enemies as he could instead in a mad kamikaze rush. They danced rapidly to interpose their wedges as the Manticorian destroyer snarled out vengeance with her lasers while the Peep destroyers was firing missiles, trying to take out its second enemy.

_Fearless's_ return upon a reciprocal heading nearly vaporized _Principality's_ aft end. For a few second, it looked fine as it coasted forward, then its emergency ejection system ejected its fusion reactor before it exploded with the force of a fusion bomb

Captain Truman took just enough time to verify that the battle was over before she was trying to keep her maimed ship alive. "Damage control to the bridge!" she called out, then unlocked herself from her shock cage. She had some lacerations on her leg and could feel the pain as if a club had hit her thigh.

Her bridge had been turned into a charnal house, bodies and _parts _of bodies strewn around. They had not lost pressure... somehow... but the secondary explosions had killed half of her crew and officers. Smoked choked the air as people moved to help the wounded... and close the eyes of the dead.

"God, how can she be alive. She's has a four foot spike of metal through her torso," Ellen called out from where she hand limped over to the exploded astrogation consoles with a limply hanging right arm. Everyone else but Sheila was strewn over the scorched metal. Many of them in several pieces.

Sheila's eyes caught the XO's just before the darkness closed in on her in an embrace that was overpowering.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Recovery and Relief**

So she was quite surprised when she awoke again, clawing her way out of the darkness into the light. Surgeon Lt. Wendy Gwynn could be heard in the background as her pain-fogged senses took in the uncomfortable bed and the straps holding her in place. The lights above her head seemed far too bright. The pain was almost indescribable, but she was already fighting to not fall back into the void of unconsciousness.

"Sheila? Lt. Gwynn! Manticoria is awake," a male intern called out.

The surgeon's voice was shocked. "What are you talking about? I'm not even sure how she's still alive." The brown-haired officer moved over and forced open Sheila's left eye to flash a light into them. "Sheila, can you hear me?"

"I'm-here-" she managed to say in a raspy voice. Her chest hurt terribly. She wanted more than anything for the pain to just quit or go away. Her will was weak, but a spark within her fought to push away the pain.

"The quick heal should have her out for at least another ten hours," the male attendant called out. "But her blood makeup is all weird. I'm not seeing any traces of the dotaphonian or metsisianophini."

Everything was too sensitive, too painful though at one level removed. A spark of divinity within her awoke with a rush, dulling the pain to a dull roar as her body become one step more real than mundane. And then her ichor thrummed in her blood. The rainbow-black blood of the gods surged through her as it appeared, knitting flesh back together. Wounds that would take weeks if not months to recover for a mortal... healed within seconds.

"What the hell was that?" Gwynn shouted. "Did you see that Ed?"

"If see you mean watched as all of her bruises just washed away like dirt... yes!" the male nurse exclaimed.

All of her vital signs on the bed-scanner jumped to perfectly stable levels. Her eyes were open, clear of any discomfort.

"Did you give me a shot of pain medicine?" Sheila asked in a clear voice, suddenly showing an amazing strength compared to just five minutes ago. She realized her torso was swathed in pressure bandages.

"I'm going to check the stomach wound," the doctor called out. Her fingers carefully touched the edge of the smart bandage, releasing a stream of darkly coagulated blood. Swabbing it quickly, she found the skin only had a fading (visibly!) scar. She moved on to the next bandage. "Well, this is a bonafide miracle. Um, let's have you move your right shoulder. It had been shattered, but its not even bruised." Her voice was confused and awed.

The young blonde scion moved it easily. "I've heard some of my family _can_ do this. That will be handy," she admitted to herself.

That was when the life-signs on the bed ot her left started to shriek.

"Montgomery is going into cardiac arrest!" Lt. Gwynn called out. "Damn it, I'm not losing her after all the effort I put to put her back together-?"

The alarms cut off before they had gotten over to the dying patient.

"Any other patients that are in danger of dying?" Sheila asked as she sat up, holding the blood stained blanket up to her chest to protect her modesty.

"About nine. What do you mean?" Petty Officer First Class Edward Piers asked in confusion. His dark chocolate features were quite handsome, even by Sheila's standards.

"Can I get a gown? This should only take about five minutes." The daughter of Athena gave them both a smile with dimples. "After all, this is _Apollo_. He is a god of healing."

Surgeon Lt. Wendy Gwynn just nodded slowly as Edward got her a gown, then walked over to her the first critically wounded. By the time Sheila had walked up, she saw the patient color and vitals improve on the displays. In fact, the mostly comatose patient frowned. It actually look only about three minutes to walk down the row. By the time she had reached the end of the row, three of the nine casualties were actually trying to stand up, though groaning as they still had some deep bruises.

But bruises instead of deep cuts and lacerations.

Sheila just looked at them, nodded her head occasionally. "Well, that should be that. I don't think anyone else is in danger of dying right now that normal medicine can't help as well as I can. And I'm not unlimited. That took a lot out of me." And what the Fate Binding would do to her? She was worried about that. And she was actually fairly vulnerable, as she could feel only an ember of her Legend remaining.

"That was... impossible," the lieutenant admitted. "Faith healing? Psychic powers?" Behind her the male nurse had a look of utter adoration upon his face.

"Closer to the former," the young blonde admitted. "I better report in to a senior officer."

"I'll let the XO know you are ambulatory and released back to duty," the older woman replied. "Edward, can you get her signed out?" Then she could go prod Lt. Montoya on loan from _Fearless _for assistance. He was currently resting in the ward room, something she had already done an hour ago.

"Sure," he replied slowly, as if in shock. In his heart, an ember of fanaticism had been laid, growing into a fire.

* * *

The door to the bridge slid open and Sheila blinked at the ruins of the bridge as several techs were busy rewiring replacement consoles in place. "Well, I can attest that it did hurt," she said in a bit of humor. "Lt. Manticoria reporting for duty, captain."

"I see Lt. Gwynn's prognosis was off a bit, which isn't too surprising. I don't think there's anyone quite like you in the fleet," Captain Truman said with a tired grin. "I need to you work with the damage control crews on the control runs. We'll be heading back to Manticore very soon for repairs and we want a smooth sailing. As soon as they finish the repairs at Beta 14, anyways."

_Apollo_ was quite lamed. The starboard sidewall was just so much junk right now and they were missing most of their weapons. Over half the crew was dead. The poor ship had had a very rough time of it, indeed.

Sheila nodded and headed over, helping to coordinate the replacement controls for astrogration. That was when she discovered that she was the _entire_ department after the attack. And she was sure it was only because of her supernatural gifts and her amulet. The amulet that Marianne had given her had been imbued with a powerful protection.

They were still at it five hours later when she got a summons from the captain to the undamaged conference room. It was a bit saddening to see the empty seat of her department head. So she was now filling in for him.

Captain Truman sat at the head of the table, like in so many other meetings. This time though she looked quite tired and drawn. Lt. Commander Lady Ellen Prevost did not look much better, with her right arm in a sling. Ambersome and Hackmore both looked untouched of wounds, though very tired. Sheila was now the ranking officer of Astrogation and actually looked the best off at this point.

"Thanks for your promptness. I just got a conference from Captain Harrington who has been updated on the local situation. Intelligence has confirmed that the enemy has a Sultan-class battlecruiser." She gave them time to absorb the unpleasant news. "We have been cut orders to immediately return to Manticore for reinforcements while _Fearless _and _Troubadour _will remain here in defense of Grayson."

"What are their odds?" the dark-haired Lt. Commander Charles Hackmore asked slowly. "I don't have tactical training really, but a battlecruiser... that will just chew them up."

"You do have a gift of understatement. Captain Harrington hopes that the Masadans will realize that they have failed in their bid to conquer Grayson, but she feels significantly worried that they will not see reason. And hence the gravity of our situation. Charles, are we going to be able to repair Beta 14 before we leave?" That hit had reduced their acceleration by almost 20 %.

"Grayson local shipyards shipyards say they can repair it, but it will take them about twenty to thirty hours," he replied as he reached into his undress uniform. "Then we can hit full speeds back. That is our only propulsion issue, so we should be fine." The engineer gave her a shrug.

Sheila was juggling numbers in her head. "Captain, can we do without those repairs? We will lose twelve hours transit while fixing the beta node in comparison to just the loss of acceleration."

Truman frowned as she considered that. "That's a very good point. Lt. commander, we'll forego the repairs to the beta node. Just make sure there's no bleed through into the the alpha nodes on either side. We'll be taking on the most critically wounded from _Fearless _and _Troubadour_... plus two of _Madrigal's _survivors."

That got a startled reaction as most of them had not heard of those survivors being found in the Masadan's base.

"We'll still do critical repairs to life support and power systems, but look to be ready to leave for Manticore in-" Alice Truman paused as she referred to a data pad. "-three hours from now. It is utterly critical that we get back to Manticore as soon as possible so that a relief force can be sent out. Do everything you can to expedite that mission. Dismissed."

Sheila stood up with the rest of the officers as her mind whirled into action. There was a possible way. Something she had been tinkering with. She had discovered an ability while working on the improved inertial compensator. Somehow she was able to build mock-ups of devices in a thousandth of the time it should have taken.

And that might help with one of her longer term strategic goals.

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Desperate Marathon**

Sheila stepped onto the bridge a mere five minutes before they were to depart. "Mr. Cole, I stand to relieve you." She had to step lightly to twist between some marines that were still helping to wire a panel for the sensors.

"I am relieved," the midshipman said _in _relief.

"You are relieved," she replied formally.

Lady Prevost raised an eyebrow. "Cutting it a little short, Lt. Manticoria? That's quite unusual." The exec was over at her station, riding herd on tactical.

"Yes, sir. I was almost overdue as I worked on a project to help speed our journey home." Sheila felt a stab of surprise as she realized that it was home. She had barely lived there and the ships of the navy had turned into her home, too.

The bustle of the bridge was frenetic and the emotions were taut. Sheila had her plot prepared and set off at a blistering ninety-five percent of maximum emergency military power.

Captain Truman nodded appreciatively as she rechecked the plot. Sheila was going to crowd on the speed until turn-over then and hit the hyperlimit at exactly .295 c. A little closer than she would have done it to herself, but the young demigoddess was _very_ proficient at her duties.

After they translated just over two hours later, Truman had a small discussion quietly with her chief engineer. She was going to break a lot of regulations about hyperspace translation limits. But the only way she could see to get to home fleet fast enough. Once she was finished, she turned over to astrogation. "Helm?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Sheila called out.

"We are going to see about how fast we can make this run." She was quite tense, as it all depended on her sailing master. Thought, if there was anyone that could make this run, it had to be her supernaturally acute demigoddess officer.

"I understand. Could I speak with you for just a moment. I really can't leave as we are making our translations, but I do think this is important," the lieutenant called out. Her eyes were on her plot with the multitude of weaving lines of gravity sheers and waves listed.

Captain Truman nodded her executive officer to follow and meandered over to the astrogation station. "Lt. Manticoria, are you having a problem?"

"No problem at all, captain. I just didn't want to be shouting across the bridge my thanks for removing the safety limits." Sheila waited a second. "And I would like to ask for your trust as I try to breach to Iota Wall."

Lt. Commander Lady Prevost looked at Sheila in shock. "You have to be kidding. If we try that, we will die, lieutenant. No one has succeeded."

"Let's hear her out, before blasting a missile into the idea," Alice said as she noted absently that they were all blue-eyed and blonde women right there.

"I've been working for months on this project and have the multidimensional math down. The Iota Wall is probably twice as thick as expected. And I've done an amazing of research into hyperdrive failures over the last six hundred years since it was invented." At their nods, she continued even as she continued to pilot up to the Beta Wall. "I verified which six components would fail (or nearly fail) when the ships would hit a heavier transition barrier over the centuries. I just spent the last five hours fortifying those six components on the Apollo's hyperdrive. I feel very confident that we can transition the Iota Wall."

The midshipman and enlisted crew were listening raptly. This could literally be a historical moment.

"They are in effect a bit of a jury rig and I really think we will have to put this trip on the Official Secrets list. The strategic importance of being able to transition up to the Iota or the Kappa Band even for just couriers are astounding. If we can do this for fleet response formations, the effect on the possible war with Haven is just another stage more of importance." Her voice was calm and distinct as she transitioned them through the wall with barely a surge.

Captain Truman leveled her blue eyes on the forward display which was currently showing a computer generated image of hyperspace. The purples and greens of the particles trapped in the gravity sheers and wave. It used to be the color of death for crazy men and woman that piloted hyperspace before the Warshinski sensors were invented. "You sound like you put an immense amount of thought into it. You have my permission.

Lady Prevost nodded slowly as she followed the captain back to her command console. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm one hundred percent sure. We are about to make history, Ellen. And possibly change the outcome of the upcoming war." Alice had a bemused grin on her face.

The Beta and Delta Wall were barely noted as they traversed them. The Gamma was slightly tense. Sheila actually took a moment to verify some engineering readouts as they approached the Iota Wall, the hyperdrive ramping up to its highest settings... and beyond. The whole ship shuddered as they slammed into the energy potential.

Down in engineering, devices attached all over the hyperdrive groaned under the energy, some of them actually glowing red under the load.

"Iota Wall breached, captain. I think we need to wait for the hyperdrive to cool slightly and then we can go for the Kappa Wall," Sheila called out across the bridge. There was a whoop that was not very decorous at all from the enlisted ranks.

"Very well-" Captain Truman called out from her station as she read the same engineering readout as her station's com signaled. "This is the captain. Hackmore?"

"What the hell was that? Did we just bounce off the Iota Wall? I've got reading up and down my screens that are telling me my hyperdrive should have just blown up," the engineer said down in his main engineering control room.

"We currently just breached that barrier, lt. commander. As soon as you can cool the hyperdrive down to normal operational levels, we are going to hit the Kappa Wall." Alice Truman was exuding perfect confidence that she did not feel.

"Captain, I don't even understand how we survived the last bump. I do not recommend this," he said hurriedly.

"Trust in me, Charles. We do actually know what we are doing," Alice said with a strong amount of sincerity in her voice. "This is all purposeful."

"I'm only doing this under protest then. I can't in good conscience agree to this madness."

The ship actually shuddered harder when it went through the Kappa Wall and one of the damaged Alpha Nodes picked up a harmonic.

"Captain I'm going to have to divert slightly while I stabilize the harmonic," the scion of Athena called out. A carefully planned spiral course actually relieved the stress of the harmonic within moments. "I would suggest we expedite that repair to Alpha Node 11 as quickly as possible.

Hackmore's snippy response half an hour later informed them the Alpha Node was once again properly tuned.

"You aren't going to attempt the Mu Wall, are you?" Truman asked her pilot.

"No, ma'am. I'm pretty sure I would have to totally redesign hyperdrives to go that far up." She had a smile on her lips though. She had done it. She had smashed through an impossible thing, proving herself once again.

The lamed _Apollo _soared through brighter purple of the more energetic layer.

* * *

Admiral of the Green Hamish Alexander, Thirteenth Earl of White Haven, stood at the docking collar as a pinnace finished cycling through in impatience. He raised an eyebrow as he saw Commander Alice Truman, but the lieutenant just behind her was a surprise. "Commander, it's good to see you. I'm sorry for removing you from your ship, but I needed to get a direct briefing. I'm not sure I can believe your passage time. How did you manage to get home in just thirty-six hours?"

His head of his staff, Commander Byron, nodded at his elbow.

"The Apollo now has the singular privilege of being the _fastest_ starship ever, as we actually reached the Kappa Band of hyperspace," Alice Truman said with just a hint of smugness.

"The _Kappa_ Band?" Earl White Haven asked, then whistled softly. Byron's mouth actually dropped open in shock.

"I am assuming its going to have to be a Official Secret, unfortunately, at least until we start showing the Peeps what a responsive fleet really is really like," Truman said in a very proud tone.

"Yes, yes we are." Hamish was juggling numbers in his head as the frontier suddenly became a lot smaller. "And this young lady?" He thought she looked familiar.

"This is the young lady that made it possible. Lt. Lady Sheila Manticoria. She has a tendency to make the impossible happen," Truman said with a nod.

"Well, I doubt we can modify this fleet to go up to the Kappa Band, but we are still going to see how good my engineers are at hitting the uppermost parts of the Iota bad," the admiral said as he led them to a lift.

"I'm not sure that is going to be fast enough. Er, do I have permission to discuss Sunflower with Captain Truman present?" Sheila asked from where she was trailing behind the much more senior officers.

"How do you know about that, lieutenant?" Commander Byron demanded. If security on that was compromised-

"I, er, sorta invented it." She shrugged at his expression. "It was part of what I figured out when-" She looked over at Alice and stopped what she was saying.

"Yes, I think I see where you are going. You think we should use Sunflower A2 to get to Yeltsin in three days instead of the normal five." The admiral had his eyes narrowed in thought. "That is above your pay grade as a decision. But I concur entirely. Byron, hoof it to the flag bridge and divert the fleet to the junction. On my authority, the fleet will transition through Sunflower A2 and then make best speed to Grayson."

"She discovered more than the Lynx Junction? How is that possible?" Alice asked.

"Secondary termini. They are usually only out to about one hundred light years at most. But the strategic command ability is immense. Now if she could only figure out how to transition them back to Manticore space easily. They are basically one way at this point," the gray haired man said with a hard tone. "So it appears we are going to be getting back much quicker than expected."

"Much faster, as Captain Harrington has no idea that we were going to try to get back that fast."

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Last Battle**

Honor Harrington was amazed at how tentative the _Thunder of God_ actually had been used. _Fearless _and _Troubadour_ were both still alive and unwounded. She doubted it would last, but if he wanted to fight like an idiot, she was willing to stall. Still, she studied the display closely. They were currently in another attempt to sneak into Grayson to take out the enemies. The captain would have thought his first attempt would have told him that was impossible.

She had shrugged it off at this point as she snacked on a sandwich. Luckily she had Mac to make sure that Nimitz was fed while she was stuck up on here on the bridge.

"Status change. We are picking up a signal from the recon drones," Lt. Commander Cardones called out. "It apears that three taskforces have hit the hyperlimit. Signal says they are friendly."

The main holotank showed the pre-positioned new forces that were positioned to box in any ship as they moved in towards Grayson.

Honor studied that closely with her one good eye. The other one was covered in an honest to goodness eye patch, like she was some sort of pirate. "Course change. Starboard ten degrees. Let's try to get him to chase us into the box," she called out.

Commander Andreas Venizelos called out, "Aye, aye, captain." The tension in the bridge was suddenly much lighter, no longer suffocating them under fear.

The two ships rotated to suggest they were trying to disengage toward Grayson.

"It's only been five and a half days?" Captain Mark Brentworth asked in confusion from his uncomfortable seat where he was wearing his Manticorian skinsuit with Grayson markings. The Grayson liason officer knew that the soonest that they should be expecting reinforcements was at least four days away, if not longer. They would have had to have already been on their way.

They were nearly perfectly positioned before Matthew Simonds, the captain in charge of _Thunder of God,_ realized what had happened. The battlecruiser actually changed course three times. Twice away from the Manticorian relief forces (each quite powerful enough to defeat his battlecruiser by themselves) and then a final course change directly at Grayson.

It only took moments for Honor Harrington to realize what he was going to do. "Course change. Bow up forty degrees, full emergency power and prepare for missile interdiction. Andreas, I'm going to need you to get a targeting feed to Grayson's forts. He's making a suicide run. We have to stop everything or at least cripple him." Honor was glad they were still fairly far out.

_Fearless_ and _Troubadour_ were suddenly rushing towards the massive battlecruiser, belching missiles like they were were not limited in their magazine.

_Thunder of God_ was firing his own missiles, but not at the Manticorians. The missiles were stepped down for longer endurance as they fired at the planet of their most hated enemies. The battlecruiser writhed as missiles started to streak in even as their counter-fire started to intercept his attacks. The slower speed was working against him.

On the bridge of _Thunder of God_, Captain Simonds sat stiffly in the captain's acceleration cage. His eyes were burning fiercely as he wished death upon his enemies. The lurid red icons of the enemy forces and the damned woman in his way of his victory. "Are any of the missiles getting through?"

"Very few, captain," his tactical officer explained. "The speeds we have to send them to be unstoppable when they reach Grayson means they are actually slower at the boost phase."

"How long to energy range?" the fanatic of Masada called out in a hoarse, extolling voice. When had been the last time he had slept? More than a day ago.

"Two minutes." They were already at five million kilometers and the range was dropping rapidly. Their previous course changes had their relative speed low, but the closer groups of ships would intercept quickly.

"Sir, we are receiving a communication. They are demanding that we surrender and stop our attack on Grayson. Something about the Eridani Edict." His second in command, Ash, was a bit worried. They really did sound insistant.

"Damn their Eridani Edict to Hades! We will destroy Grayson without mercy! Continue firing on the planet and prepare to destroy the Harlot of Manticore when we reach energy range!" Simonds shouted, almost frothing in his anger.

The _Thunder of God_ shuddered as missiles started to strike home, even as it fought desperately to get any attack through to Grayson. If they could only destroy enough of their infrastructure, perhaps they would not be conquered in return. The whole ship heaved as a missile came in on a twisting vector and exploded right in the open wedge, a perfect up the kilt shot. The whole ship shuddered as Alpha and Beta nodes explodes and the whole ship was sent reeling. Super-conducting rings started to fail spectacularly, dropping power as the battlecruisers went into emergency shutdown.

"Captain! We missed one of the missiles," Rafe called out as he looked up in horror. The missile was was shooting off at higher and higher speeds towards Grayson, glowing balefully on his holotank.

"Make sure that we've forwarded all targeting information to Grayson space command," Honor snapped out. If that got through and hit the planet, the death toll would be immense.

Back in Grayson orbit, every fort went to full alert and the last remaining Grayson ships moved out, trying to desperately find the missile. The trace was carefully plotted and three small fortresses moved sluggishly to have a better angle. They would have a bare second and a half to lock on and fire.

In fact, the three forts opened up with their old-fashioned auto-cannons thirty seconds early, trying to saturate the missiles path with a wall of bullets. One single bullet hit the forward edge by the barest margins. The heavy battlecruiser's missile changed course ever so slightly and them slammed into Fort Bravo Five before they could even realize what had happened. Without even a sidewall, the fortress exploded in pyrotechnic fury.

One of the other fortresses and an orbital farm were heavily damaged by the attack as thousands of lives were wiped away.

"Grayson command states the last missile was stopped when it hit a fort and caused some collateral damage," Commander Venizelo called out, his face pale and worried.

How do you thank heaven that only a fort was lost? Honor wondered. She turned her view back to the lamed battlecruiser. "Prepare to launch pinnaces to capture that cruiser."

* * *

Protector Benjamin Mayhew IX awaited his visitors for his dinner table with a bemused description. He and two of his wives stood up as extra guards filed into the newly repaired dining room. He had actually had to use a different table, as one of the legs was almost broken off and the bullets marred the surface. "Ladies. Admiral," he bowed his head slightly.

Admiral Hamish Alexander nodded back and held out his hand to shake. "It's a pleasure to be here. Most of my fleet will be shipping back to Masada in a very short order. This sort of thing will not be stood for by her majesty." He moved on to shake the hand of his first wife, Katherine Mayhew

Benjamin smiled even as Captain Honor Harrington stepped up to shake his hand. "It's good to see you live and doing so well. Is there no hope for your eye?"

"No, but my father should be able to install a replacement. He does great work and it's just an eye. It's worth your family," she replied very sincerely. She did indeed look quite raffish with the eye-patch. "Protector Mayhew, this is Commander Alice Truman of her majesty's ship _Apollo_."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir." The blonde late twenty-ish looking captain gave a small bow with both feet together. "I'm glad we were able to stop the attack. I am very saddened that one of your forts was destroyed during its last attack."

"My pleasure. So _Apollo_ did meet up with a relief force on its way?" Benjami asked curiously.

"Ah, actually... my ship is currently being repaired at _HMSS Hephaestus _back in Manticore even as we speak. I'm pretty sure my engineer might even speak to me once it is all fixed up." She gave a small shrug and smile at that.

"My word, I think you Manticorians have been hiding some of your capabilities," the Protector stated in a very curious tone.

Hamish let out a gruff laugh. "Actually, you might consider them to be very _new _additions to our capabilities. As in they did not exist before _Apollo_ left for reinforcements." The admiral waved over to the last officer. "This is Lt. Lady Sheila Manticoria, our most unorthodox officer. For a tactical officer, she really does the most amazing engineering feats." He older face had a smile on his forty-ish looking features, though he was actually closer to ninety.

"Manticoria? _That _Manticoria? The one that discovered the Lynx terminus? Interesting," Katherine said. "You look, what, thirteen? Third generation prolong is very amazing."

"I'm actually only fifteen. And I'm only a second generation prolong recipient," she replied carefully.

"Well, you all have my personal thanks." Benjamin directed them to the table. "I think I'd like to hear the whole story at some point."

Now how to keep them from having a religious meltdown, Sheila wondered to herself. She guessed it was time to tap-dance through verbal minefield.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

"She's a tougher nut than I thought. Who would have expected a brat to be so resilient," Marjorie Sylvester said to her father, who was sitting across from her desk. She was in her office back on the planet Asgard. "And getting to her while she is off being a mortal officer in a navy... how irritating."

"Yet somehow her legend keeps expanding. And really, just hiring some ninja to attack her occasionally is not going to work against a demigoddess, darling." Sly Lokison's fiery hair was an ugly green color right now, giving off a heat that was scorching the paint on the walls. "I thought you were brighter than this."

"Father, father, father... You might be cunning, but you are not being devious. I've been sowing her destruction in the thing that she cares about most, her precious navy of Manticore. While it did not work out _quite_ as I planned, it did reveal that she is being shielded. And her protector is but a mere mortal." The middle-aged looking woman had a hard smile on her face.

"Oh, really? I'm so impressed," Sly drawled out to goad a reaction from his youngest daughter. "My little girl can't even overcome a mortal."

"It might be a little tricky, but once I kill Queen Elizabeth, her house of cards of protection can be easily turned around. Especially going into this war with the People's Republic of Haven," Marjorie said with a grin. "In fact, doing it _just_ before their war starts will destabilize Manticore enough that they'll steam-roll right over them. Wouldn't that be just delicious to show her just how pathetic her war making skills really are?"

"So you are hoping that she gets killed in the action after a fall from grace?" the new Norse god of trickery and treachery asked curiously as he took a toke off of his cigarette.

"Oh, yes. Sheila Manticoria nearly died on her last deployment. She'll lose her protector and then she'll lose her precious navy. And then the Star Nation that she's named herself for. Her Legend will be ruined and she'll just die like a pig in some military prison."

The wind howled outside as snow was carried as if it were the glee of something foul and awful, battering at the tall tower of glass and metal.

* * *

**Epilogue the Second:**

The woman in the severe, black suit with a cowled short cape bout her neck stopped at the balcony entrance of the highrise party. Inside, in the warmth, men and women in fancy clothing prepared to dance the night away. Interspaced in the creme of the society were the uniforms of the Republic Navy.

A younger woman appeared around the corner of the balcony. "Hello, Madam," the incredibly pretty woman in an outfit that would fit in at a Ren Faire.

"Marrianne? You are not planning on interceding against me here, are you?" the harsh voiced-woman said.

"Of course not. This People's Republic needs a revolution. I just wish you and the Citizen were not enamored with such harsh ways." The young-looking goddess sighed as she leaned on the balcony and over the massive towers of Nouveau Paris. "But they need to break the shackles of their oppression."

"You can have your bleeding-heart moment somewhere else," her companion said with a repressed snarl. "Or do you have something productive to say here instead of back in our Overworld?"

"No, this is a matter of now, so must be spoken outside of the Eternal Revolution, Madam. Your Republic is going to start a war soon. And that will put you on a collision course with other Deities."

"Britannia is of no concern. If Haven is at war with her proxy when the revolution comes, then we will fight. Leave me now. I must meet with my newest incarnae." And with that, the Goddess of the Terrible Revolution and the Terror entered into the ball. She moved over to talk to a petite blonde woman that was trying to ingratiate herself with the a local leader of the city. "Cordelia Ransom?"

"Yes?" the CRU agent asked cautiously. Somehow this woman set off incredibly vibes of danger.

"My name is Madam G. I'm very interested in some of your works. Let me buy you a drink," Madam Guillotine said, gesturing at the bar. "Trust me, even the Legistlatruists will not be able to harm you this evening in my presence."

And somehow Cordelia could feel the truth of those words. "Certainly."

The mismatched pair headed to the wet bar to get some very strong drinks. Out on the balcony a lighter-haired woman walked up in a civilian women's suit. "You knew she would not listen, Marianne."

"We are not all perfect. Even you make mistakes, sister Columbia," came the tart reply.

Columbia nodded mutely, looking over the drab city that was supposed to showcase the greatness of a republic; the will of the people to lead a nation into enlightenment. All squandered by her failure. "Here most of all, dear sister. Madam Guillotine and the Citizen have no idea what sort of war they will be entering against Britannia and Manticoria. They are sharpening a blade that will kill many of mine children. And I must not lift my hand to stop it. How terrible it is, dear sister, to leave my children to such a dark fate. Evil behind them and implacable foes at their front."

"Is there nothing you can do?" the soft-hearted daughter of Athena asked as she pushed her dark-brown curls behind her ear.

"I must find someone that has not given up on the Republic. I must protect him so that liberty does not fail." And in a flash of light so bright and terrible it was seen from space, she disappeared.

That caused a cry of alarm, but by the time anyone managed to come outside to look for the disturbance, there were only pigeons on the balcony.


	3. Maneuvers of War

**Maneuvers of War** **Chapter 1: Active Duty**

Sheila whistled under her breath as she finally got leave before she had her next station. And it was a super-dreadnought, which was a large step up from her station with BuSHIPs (At least in her opinion.) The _HMS Sphinx_ under Captain Merideth Georges was supposed to be a plum assignment. It was part of Home Fleet, but they trained rigorously in case of attack and it was the current flagship of Admiral Hamish Alexander, Earl White Haven.

She had been part of his battlecruiser division when he steam-rolled right over Masada and landed his marines and conquered the planet. That had been a harrowing few weeks until she was shipped back to Manticore. She had not quite complained, though she had very much wanted to once she had been back. Even the promotion to lieutenant senior grade had palled when she had found out that she was going to be transferred to BuSHIPs while they perfected the new, improved inertial compensators and hyperdrives. And she had been corralled into improving the FTL communication system.

So for the last fourteen months, her duty station had been _HMSS Weyland_ in orbit of Manticore-B V, otherwise known as Gryphon. She had been there only slightly more than a year, but that had been more than long enough for her mind.

And just like today, she had made a few trips back to Manticore and the House of Lords on her 'leave of absences' at the Queen's insistence. Admiral Amber Blake had not been amused at that point, but could not really say no to the occasional leave that Queen Elizabeth requested.

She exited the shuttle first (she was actually the ranking officer for once) and started walking down the concourse tube to where she could rent a taxi, into the blinding sun of the early spring of Landing. Her trunk followed her like a dutiful dog and only required a tiny bit of extra muscle to load up. She gave the driver her apartment address and in half an hour was dropped off at the soaring tower apartment that she had been renting as her 'home' even though she had only lived in it for odd days here and there.

The apartment has actually fairly spacious for one person, especially one that had little personal effects. A few plaques from Saganami for setting a few records in sailing and powered flight and a copy her ennoblement papers on the wall in a tough protection on bare white wall and simple couches and a chair in front of a home holotank.

The dinner she had ordered on the way over arrived, the smell of 'authentic' Chinese to her sense humor quite funny as it was nothing of the sort. She hit a button on her message, starting them playing. She skimmed over her business correspondents. A message had been flagged by her A.I. as important.

"Sheila, this is Elizabeth. I do expect you to show up at the House of Lords on the 10th. There's an important vote on the military spending bill and your insights could sway some of the undecided Lords. I've sent the draft of the bill. Do be a dear and look over it. Ta ta," the queen said, then the recording ended.

"Why me?" Sheila complained to the air. With her chopsticks, she started to eat while plowing through her paperwork, her jacket over the back of her chair. Fiscal reports and investment decisions disappeared into her outfile. Her net worth was growing very fast again, as her super-human intellect played stocks better than most investment companies. Then she started to read the proposed bill so that she could be prepared for tomorrow.

* * *

The House of Lords was one of the shorter buildings in Landing, but this only made it one hundred stories tall, rather than the hundreds of the megastructures that they built now (and like the one that she had lived in). Only the individual Lords with their staff could disembark at the top level, everyone else had to park their aircars (or even groundcars) across one of the many grassy fields of Landing.

Sheila stepped out of her taxi. "Thanks, Morty. Have a nice day," she said to the driver after reading his name on his posted license. She would probably have to purchase her own car soon. She would even be able to legally drive it when she turned seventeen. One of the odd quirks of law is that she could pilot any spaceship under her military duties, but the civilian requirements were still just based on age.

The polished ceramacrete showed a bit of its age, but it was only a short walk down to the main elevators of the aircar park. Up ahead of her she saw a procession of marines surrounding a particular woman wearing a sword, her personal aides and her treecat, Aerial. Said treecat was actually trotting along at foot level, as unlike Honor Harrington, Queen Elizabeth was not the most physically imposing woman and was not able to carry her treecat on her shoulder.

Off to her left, she saw another noble and his entourage exiting his aircar she was passing, though limo would be more accurate. It was the 'honorable' Michael Janvier, Baron Highridge with his personal assistant and several bodyguards.

So the ripping sound of a flechette gun was incredibly surprising as it opened up on the queen and her guards. It was at a short range, actually within ten years yards it appeared. They must be just around around the corner from the angle of the rounds that shredded the humans in a spray of blood and gore.

The man was just finished his killer burst and fading back into a blurry shadow when a streak came around the car. The thundering and booming kick that hit his chest felt like he had been hit with a pulsar himself and skidded down the row to crash into a car. Sheila looked over at the mutilated bodies of the queen's guards and staff. The keening wail from Aerial as the wounded treecat tried to drag itself over to the prone... _living _body of the queen.

Sheila's legend thrummed through her blood she grabbed the moment in time as the queen lay dying of her blunt battering and mended all of her shattered bones and burst organs. She was still hurt, but she would live.

"You tried to kill my queen," Sheila stated as she moved towards the exo-armored figure that was trying to hide. Behind her she heard rapid response teams moving up. The royal marines would protect the Queen from now.

"Girl, she's dead," the assassin said. Why wasn't the invisibility working? He did not realize that he was nearly transparent and to mortal eyes _was_ invisible. He raised up his flechette gun and fired only to see the girl in Lord's robes move faster than his eyes could track. "What the hell are you?" This must be one of those supernatural entanglements that the red-head had warned him of.

With that, he turned and ran for the landing balcony with a burst of his built-in enhanced muscles of his military grade power armor. His last leap and a gravitic shove sent him leaping into the air and to his waiting aircar. Its retracted roof made his landing in the back a snap as the vehicle shook. His driver was already accelerating when the girl leaped out after him.

"What the hell, man?" the local tough shouted. He had been hired for a getaway job, though he had no idea that his life only lasted as long as this trip would take.

"Just drive." The assassin was smiling as he saw that the girl would miss. It was an awfully long way down.

Sheila bent her willpower as her ichor sung in her body. From nowhere a wind caught her and launched her into the back of the aircar above its roaring thrusters.

"What the hell does it take to kill you?" the assassin screamed out in shock his pulsar pistol made snap noises at the flickering figure that was moving faster than humanly possible

"I want to know who hired you. And you will talk," Sheila snapped out even as her free hand reached into small cloud that appeared next to her.

The tattooed driver almost had a heart attack as he saw her pull out a crackling lightning bolt from the mist in his review monitor. That was when Sheila slammed the bolt of electricity into the main engine compartment, killing the high speed turbines with a squeal of shattered metal.

The aircar suddenly started to lose altitude, the punk at the wheel trying to find something soft to crash onto. There! A pond in a park, next to a copse of trees. That would be perfect for losing the heat, because this was way too much and too weird.

They silvery-gray aircar plowed into the water at 250 kilometers an hour with a massive splash of water and mud. The assassin had recovered his rifle and was quickly bounding into the trees. He turned just as he and the driver were past some bushes along the shore. "Hey, Mitch? No hard feelings, right?"

"Huh?" the getaway driver said in confusion until he saw the rifle pointed at his chest. "Oh, shit-"

That was when Sheila reappeared as streak, running across the water. In between one moment and another, she crossed the intervening fifty meters across the water while barely leaving a ripple, her hand chopping down on the flechette rifle with enough force to break the weapon. She spun so her other elbow caught the driver in the stomach, causing him to collapse as it felt like he had been hit by a club.

The assassin was getting desperate as punishing hits kept knocking him back with cracks of thunder from each of her blows. That was when he noted that his armor was running out of power, leaving him almost helpless and hobbled by its weight.

Landing's finest showed up then, deploying from low flying SWAT airvans. "No one move!" barked out a sergeant. He and his fellows were just as heavily armed and armored as the assassins but in much greater numbers.

* * *

Inspector Pressman walked over to where the two prisoners were located. "Why hasn't someone stopped that hazard?" he asked, pointing at the open aircar with crackling electricity coming from its engine in the rear.

"Sorry about that, inspector," Sheila said from where she was writing a report. As casually as you could, she hopped up on the back end of the open-roofed aircar and grabbed the lightning bolt as simple as you please. With a pushing motion, she pressed it into a small mist cloud that appeared for just a moment.

The ten policemen and twenty marines from the Queen's own personal guard detail all gaped for just a second as Sheila hopped back down.

Pressman finally shook himself out of his daze. He must have been imagining that. "So you are willing to testify that this was the assassin?"

"Yes, sir. While I was not _right _there, I was close enough to get there just a moment after he gunned down the queen's guards and party. How is Aerial? She looked injured, even though the flechette gun didn't look like it had hit her." Sheila was in parade rest with her hands behind her back.

"At a treecat vet specialist. I guess some of the fragments from the security detail cut her up. The queen is a mass of bruises, but the doctors say she is lucid right now and will live. They have no idea how she survived," the police officer said in a worried tone.

"It must have been divine providence." Literally, Sheila thought to herself. Excaliber's sheath must have kept the flechette rounds from breaking her skin and probably lowered the damage dramatically, but she was still lucky that Sheila had been close enough to heal her. "I should probably pay my respects. The Lords has been closed?"

"Yes, they were afraid of more assassins. Somehow no one spotted a man in full battle armor. I know they are supposed to be stealthy, but they aren't that good and the House of Lords has top-notch sensors and security sweeps almost constantly," Pressman said.

There was more paperwork, though no one but Sheila knew she had taken the stone-carved amulet with a rune of _Pertho_ for secrets from the assassin. Most likely it was what had allowed him to hide like he had. With a powerful Relic of the Hidden Moon, he had probably walked through all that fancy security like it had not existed.

* * *

Sheila sat attentively as she listened to one of the Peerage lambast the latest spending projection for the Navy and Army two days later. The old Baron of Low Delhi looked around as the liberal sat down. "Does anyone wish to speak for the appropriations?" he asked the council.

This was why the Queen had wanted her here, even if she herself was still recovering from her assassination attack. With a flick, she activated her signal caused old man Hemphill to frown.

"The House will hear from Baroness Lynx," he called out.

"Thank you, Speaker," she called out. She then launched into a calculated speech of only five minutes. Long enough to get their attention at this late point, but not too long to get the aggravated with the topic at hand. "Lords and Ladies, I have just personally came back from a stint with the Bureau of Ships of her Majesty's Navy and I have to tell you that this appropriation is barely enough, much less the cuts that are being proposed. In fact, at this late time as we fortify our borders, this really needs to increase almost thirty percent even as the Lords of Admiralty wrestle with increasing our efficiency another ten percent." Sheila held up her hand to forestall an angry retort. "My Lords and Ladies, Haven's order of battle is quite a bit larger than our own and mostly deployed out on our frontier. Unless any of you could think of anyone else out here that they need hundreds of starships to conquer instead of us?"

Sheila's legendary ichor was burning in her veins, inspiring the lords with her words.

"All that I ask for is a fleet that can defend our borders, Lords and Ladies. Stand behind our Navy and we will work miracles for you and keep our peace that is the birthright of all men and women." She bowed at that point, then sat down.

They actually increased the budget by ten percent, shocking analysts that had been following the meetings.

The Conservative Association though, and notably Baron High Ridge and Earl North Hollow, were beginning to see the power she was wielding on the floor as an independent. Like Lady Greenriver, the Baroness of Lynx was starting to make severe political waves based on just her reputation.

Steps might have to be taken care of.

* * *

Sheila stepped into the small bedroom past the royal marine guards. "Queen Elizabeth, you are looking much better." She bowed quite deeply.

The dark-skinned woman shook her head. "None of that, Sheila. Come in and sit down." Aerial sat on her lap, covered in her own pressure bandages.

The young scion moved over to sit in a chair next to the large bed. "Your majesty, I think this was an attack at myself through you. The assassin had a Norse glyph for secrets upon him and was actually invisible to human senses. Which includes modern sensors."

The treecat hissed in anger even as the royal narrowed her eyes in anger. "You have been an incredibly important person of my realm and one of my personally sworn nobles. Find this person, Manticoria, and bring them to justice."

"You have my word that justice will be done," the young demigoddess promised. "Though do keep that sword with you at all times, my queen. You are more wise than King Arthur, for you have learned the value of the sheath more than its blade."

"Oh yes. Indeed. My children love the old Arthurian stories and both agreed that he should have kept the sheath rather than the sword," Elizabeth said in good humor. The quick heal looked like it would fix all of her issues soon.

Sheila leaned forward in the plush seat. "Aerial looks a bit battered and isn't recovering as quickly."

"There's no quick heal for treecats and she lost a lot of blood. I'm just glad she's doing fine. In fact, as your own recovery is so far advanced, Elizabeth, perhaps I could offer to heal her up. What do you think of that?" she turned and asked the treecat directly.

Very carefully, Aerial nodded her head.

There was no visible sign, no gesture needed for her legend to awaken. Instantly most of the cuts disappeared under the bandages, looking weeks old instead of just days.

"That should do it, your highness," she said to the bleeking treecat as it leaped off the bed in happiness.

* * *

Marjorie Sylvester was quite upset as she sat in a very private club. "I thought you promised me the best money could buy?" she said across the small table to the fat man in the life support chair. The room's lighting was subdued and absorbed by the dark, polished paneling and dark green carpet.

Earl North Hollow glared at her for a long moment, even as his double-chin quivered. "He was the very best. I came through for you." And he had certainly not known what she had been hiring the hitman for. Luckily he had made sure that nothing could be traced back to him.

"And now you want your elixir?" the red-head aske in a cold tone. "The deal was that he would do the job."

"He did the job, just as you asked. It was not his fault that he ran into that unnatural girl and she captured him. Or that _She_ unnaturally survived when her guards and staff did not." It would not have hurt the Earl's feelings if the Queen had died, of course. He just did not want to get caught. He might be dying and on his last leg, but he had no desire to be shot for treason. And to find out that she could somehow survive a flechette attack at short range was terrifying.

Their conversation stopped for a long minute or two as a server came in a refilled their drinks. She topped off their brandies and removed the ashtray.

"I'll send you the elixir once I've reached my ship," Marjorie finally said. "I don't want you to have any last minute change of plans."

The patchy, fat face showed North Hollow's anger quite clearly, but he nodded. "Then I'll take my leave." It was quite late and he needed to retire before he caused himself to have a stroke. His life-support chair lifted off the grounds and floated nearly silently out of the room. Bodyguards drifted to surround him as he headed to his limo.

Marjorie nursed her drink for another half an hour as she considered matters. Without Queen Elizabeth out of the way, her entire plan had fallen apart. With her patronage still intact, the plan to discredit Manticoria and dull her career would not happen. So she would have to continue her efforts to send the illegal Solarian technologies to Haven at this point. Standing up, she brushed her green velvet dress into pristine shape and headed to the door. The chill wind of Landing off the sea nearly cut through her thin coat, but compared to the Underworld's ice, it was nothing. The city lights drowned out the stars overhead.

"Freeze! This is the Police! Marjorie Sylvester, you are under arrest!" a plainsclothed officer shouted even as the two vans just up the street (both ways!) disgorged more officers in tactical vests and rifles. He was standing in front of the taxi she was flagging down.

Inspector Pressman had his gun out, his free hand reaching to turn her around and start to handcuff when her hand came down and crushed his gun and his hand to pulp.

"You would lay your hands upon the daughter of Lokison?" Marjorie snarled, even as she suddenly gained two feet of height. The free hand not crushing the inspector's hand reached out to pick up the taxi. With negligent-seeming strength she tossed it (and its screaming driver) into the mass of policemen there, crushing and killing three of the six men.

Pressman left hand suddenly had his holdout pulsar from his sleeve, firing it three times into her torso. His weapon totally discharged, he could only gape as he took in the small holes that were not nearly big enough. That should have blown holes the size of basketballs in her. The red-headed giantess still had a grip on his mangled right hand. She snapped him around and then pulled back his hand the other way, ripped the arm right out of its socket.

"Man down! Man down!" the leader of the other group of officers shouted.

With a snarl, the daughter of Lokison slammed a giant, yet somehow still petite, foot down on the ground. The high heel snapped off, but the transmitted shock flung the police into the air. She then put her hand to her healing abodomen. Modern weapons did too much damage, she complained to herself.

She crouched down and then with a booming woosh, leaped into the air. The spaceport where she had her backup escape vehicle lined up was only twenty-five kilometers away. That should only be three leaps.

It was time to leave this misbegotten, mangy planet.

* * *

On an entirely different planet, though not too far away, the object of Marjorie's ire was exiting an interplanetary pinnace at the Sphinx Planetary Space Port. Looking around the concourse, she spotted the woman she was here to meet. "Daria! Over here," she called out.

The fourteen-year old looking woman looked up from her pad where she was reading a very technical description of how to repair an energy junction of a starship. "Sheila!" she called out as she stood up.

They both had to dodge through the throng of the space port. Daria was fairly exuberant, giving her a big hug.

"I still can't believe you convinced me to go on one of your nature hikes on Sphinx," the ensign complained in her Landing accent.

"You could have said no, but I think you also mentioned you wanted to try something a little more challenging than surfing on Jason Bay." Sheila gave her a smile with dimple showing.

The two young woman chatted as they loaded up their camping equipment into the rental, which Sheila let Daria drive out of town to one of the nature preserves that hikers were allowed to backpack into.

Sheila checked them out with two of the stunners.

"Are they really necessary?" the engineer asked cautiously.

"I doubt we'll need it, but I actually have a rented pulsar... just in case. Some of the critters out here would be more than happy to see if we are two edibles with a two limb handicap. Hexapuma are about six hundred kilos of pure killing machine," the scion noted. "So how is it actually being an ensign? You are being assigned to Second Fleet, right?" The snug backpack was quite comfortable on her back. It was weighed down quite a bit more than it looked from the outside, as it was the heaviest-duty pack she could buy.

Daria nodded, her bob of dark brown bouncing. "The light cruiser _Iris_."

"Ah, the goddess that trained Hermes to replace her," Sheila noted absently as they set off up the trail from the parking lot.

The darker-haired officer blinked at that. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. You'd be amazed at the old myths. Of course, those were old even when I was on Earth. And that was almost two thousand years ago," she continued as they passed a family coming back down the hill. Up ahead of them were massive, snow-capped peaks laid out in all their massive glory.

"I keep forgetting that you are a girl out of time. This must be so very different than the far off past."

Sheila just rolled her eyes at that.

An hour later, they were letting Daria recover. This was very vigorous for the city-bred girl.

"How can you keep doing this?" she asked as she wiped her lips from her power-drink. "This is fairly taxing."

"I'm very athletic. I'm going to go to flab on ship again," the scion groused.

Daria just looked at the thin girl who was lacking an ounce of wasted flesh anywhere. Of course, she was also lacking in most wormanly curves. "I wish I had your flab."

That was when Sheila heard a mewling noise up a small bend. "Is that a treecat? The pitch was too high though," the demigoddess muttered to herself.

"Oh, that would be cool. I didn't think this was near a treecat range though. Are you sure? Let's go," Daria said at a million miles an hour even as she set off up the canyon.

"I don't think this is part of the trail, Daria." Sheila was actually having to trot to keep up with the slightly shorter girl. They were wending their way through massive pine trees and around a sharp slot between two boulders.

As soon as Sheila stepped through she could feel the difference. They were no longer in a fully mortal realm; they were now in a Terra Incognita. "Daria, don't get ahead of me." In a flicker, she was suddenly right next to her first roomie at Saganami.

"Look, there they are!" the mortal squealed. She was crouched down to look into a shallow cave where an adult treecat was curled around three mewling kittens.

"So a test-!" Sheila was starting to say when she looked off up the trail. "Daria, get in the cave."

"But the travel guide said not to intrude on treecats." Daria looked very confused.

"Do you want to get eaten by a hexapuma?" the Scion snapped out. Her pistol was up even as she frowned. The footsteps were not right. Too heavy and widely spaced.

"I can help- What the hell is that?" the dark-haired girl was suddenly backing up into the cave.

"That would be a nemean hexapuma." Sheila took a moment to aim and then fired. The stunner hit the creature on its shoulder, merely eliciting a snarl.

That was when the hexapuma stepped out from under a shadow. No mere mortal hexapuma, this was a ten meter long behemoth with eighteen centimeter, rock-rending, scimitar claws. Its fur was shadowy black and looked as if it were carved of jet-black volcanic rock. With a shrill snarl, it charged at her, with far too much speed and power than a creature larger than an elephant should have.

Sheila shot off the ground to bounce off two boulders and through the branches of a pine tree. The pine tree actually slowed the ebon hexapuma for a moment before the six-legged behemoth shredded its way through with its shrill battlecry.

"Dammit-dammit-dammit. And I bet they don't want me to hurt the poor thing," Sheila groused as she bounded along the rock face at full speed. So she was quite surprised when a molten boulder exploded where she had been standing, landing lightly over thirty feet away. "Fire giants."

Her eyes flickered over the mountainside. Trees, cliffs and the sun peaking behind the clouds. Her keen eyes noted several faults in the rock. That just might be possible. "I don't suppose I could get you two to consider not attacking me?"

"Marjorie Slydötter said that you might come to the Six Legs Paradise," the fifty foot tall giant made of fire and ash said in ancient Norse. "She has promised many rewards for the giant that kills you." They were both armored in rusted scale armor and scorched furs, axes and pistols in their belts.

His nearly identical friend just nodded as he pulled out a twenty foot blunderbuss. With the boom of a cannon, it sent a fiery shell at her to explode in lava and shrapnel.

First thing first, Sheila thought to herself. Pulling out her grandfather's lightning bolt, she sent lightning into the cloud. The cloud suddenly turned dark and ominous, expanding even as its shape gathered substance and form.

The two giants and one very upset hexapuma could only gape as the form continued to expand and then became a towering form of a gray-black treecat, lightning crackling in its eyes as it stood over them, thousands of feet tall.

If she was not busy fighting for her life, the sight of the nemean Hexapuma cowering at the image of something that so over-awed it would have been funny. With a desperate yowl, it turned and fled into the wilds of the Terra Icognita.

"One down," she muttered, even as the two fire giants shot exploding lava shots at the ephemeral image.

"Not real! Not even a good illusion," the larger giant said. "Kill the weak Greek!"

The other giant, who had not said a word, nodded and picked up a twenty ton boulder, sending it rocketing through the air at her. It plowed into the side of the mountain with the force of a Mangonel siege engine.

Carefully considering where Daria and the treecats were located, she scrambled along the cliff face, striking out with her lightning bolt and dodging lava-cannons. Up on a ledge, she sent them out a jeer, "Silly giants! You are too weak to hurt me."

Daria cowered behind a tree near the cave entrance. This was her academy friend? No wonder she thought that assassins were nothing important.

The giants roared in pure anger, flinging much larger boulders.

Sheila thought to herself, perfect! The whole cliff was coming apart and the fire giants were just realizing it. She dashed down the cliff face with a speed that small aircars could envy, the thousands of tons of boulders right on her heels.

She twisted past them, then rocketed up into the air as the very winds caught her. The second Muspel giant actually caught the first massive rock before it could crush him, using it to let the rest of the landslide push him down the hill but without letting it crush him.

The first giant though was crushed and pummeled for over a thousand feet as the landslide smashed boulder upon boulder upon him. With a groan, the previously silent giant let the massive boulder he had used to deflect most of the landslide fall away from him, only to look up at the floating demigoddess with the crackling lightning bolt in her hand.

"I would suggest fleeing, giant of fire." Her words were as hard as the rocks that had killed his friend.

With a snarl, he fled post haste, disappearing into the wilderness. The massive trees were at his shoulders for the most part, parting like wheat in a field.

Sheila swished off as the wind flung her the two miles over to the cave. "Daria? Are you all right?"

"If you mean physically not hurt, then yes. If you mean not freaked out, no!" the ensign shouted out. "What the fucking hell was that?"

"Muspel giants out of the ancient Nordic legends. It appears the Son of Loki wants me very, very dead," the Scion of Athena said as she landed on the ground. She dismissed her lightning bolt to the uncloud it stored itself in. The blonde girl looked at the treecat and its kits carefully. "So did I pass your test?"

The russet colored cat bleaked at her and nudged the kittens forward. Two of them mewled in protest. They did not look any older than six months to a T-Year.

The impression that Sheila suddenly received is that she was to bond/care/love one of the kittens. One of the kittens, of a slightly lighter color came up to her, looking at her carefully.

"I'm doing this a bit under protest. I don't need watching," she complained to the older treecat.

"So cute!" Daria exclaimed as she lowered herself do to look at the two twenty-five centimeter long kittens that chirped at her. "Whoa." The young ensign looked like she had been pole-axed as one of the kittens suddenly clambered into her hand.

"Well, I guess congratulations are in order, as you've officially been bonded with child of a treecat god. Or is it goddess?" she asked the male treecat. The mental image and impression of femininity was overwhelming. "Goddess it is." She reached down to pick up the slightly pale treecat kitten in front of her.

The flood of emotions, simple and straight forward was a bit of a shock. "Voracious Curiosity? Now isn't that an interesting name," she muttered. "Daria, we should probably get back to Sphinx. They are probably thinking we got washed away in a flash flood or something."

A querying chirp-bleek from the adult treecat brought her attention back to her massive cloud construct.

"Oh, sorry," she said as she formed the cloud back into its nimbus form, then gave it a little gesture to shoo it away.

"So, ah, how do I ask about how you can do that-"

"Daughter of Athena."

"Oh. Really? Not even slightly kidding are you? Wow. You know, that probably explains a whole lot," Daria started to say as she regained her poise. "So how did that work? I thought she was a virgin?"

"In Vitro Fertilization? Immaculate Conception? Crafted from clay and life breathed into us? She did not exactly tell me or my sisters." She gave a shrug to her old roomie.

"So you actually have a lot of family still alive, even after two thousand years. That's way cool."

* * *

Sheila was back aboard a shuttle, not even remotely the most high ranking officer on this trip to her ship. Up ahead, the massive and ponderous form of the most powerful ship in existence was swimming into view. _HMS Sphinx,_ 1,410 meters and eight and a half megatons of pure death, distilled to its purist form that the Manticorian Navy could impose upon shipbuilding.

They docked and had a good seal as she packed away her data pad. "Come on, VC, time to see your new home."

The treecat kitten chirped as it looked up from its nap, uncurling its tail. Her expression seemed to convey a bit of her name-sake curiosity about the metal behemoth. Her cream-colored tail wagged happily though as she scrambled up onto Sheila's shoulder.

She followed a couple of lieutenant commanders out the door to the perfunctory side party. A oriental woman with the name of Watanabe on her uniform stood forward and saluted to her. "Lt. Lady Manticoria? I'm Lt. Commander Watanabe. If you could come this way, I'll get you settled and then introduced to the rest of the staff."

This was not unexpected, though Sheila had been surprised to discover that she was not being moved to the elusive tactical slot (or more likely an assistant, as super-dreadnoughts had a larger percentage of higher ranks aboard) but was being moved to Admiral White Haven's command staff.

"Certainly, commander. This is Voracious Curiosity, my new treecat companion," Sheila introduced.

The dark-haired woman frowned for just a second. "That was forwarded that you were just recently adopted. And a kitten at that. I understand that the Sphinxian Rangers were not too thrilled."

"That's a mild understatement, ma'am," the six-teen year old officer replied. "It took a little convincing from their own treecats, but they finally calmed down. Though they were very surprised at her age. I'm going to have to hand feed her some special liquid foods. Though she does seem to live up to her name."

VC bleeked at that, then curled back down on the shoulder.

The soft corridors, with most of the pipes and conduits in the ceiling and tough carpet on the floor were just like most Manticorian ships, though perhaps a bit more spacious. Sheila actually rated her own quarters. She slotted in her trunk and made sure the life support module was securely clamped to a wall. She would put her personal effects.

Sheila turned to the lieutenant commander. "Shall we?"

"We shall indeed." Sora Watanabe led her down several corridors, up a lift ten levels and into a flag bridge and its adjoining offices and conference room, which is where she led them. They were actually in the middle of a meeting. "Admiral Lord White Haven? Your Staff Lieutenant is here."

"Please, sit down. We are just going over the latest sims. It appears that one of our divisions needs some remedial work," the admiral said in a light tone. His steel-gray hair fit his mid-thirties look.

"Reporting for duty, sir," Sheila said as she saluted sharply. On her shoulder, she could feel VC mimicking her actions with her true-hand and a bleek of laughter.

"Cute little girl, isn't she?" White Haven said with a wry grin.

"Why, sir, I'm not that sort of girl," the scion replied with a totally straight face. "Though my treecat companion certainly is."

"Droll, Manticoria. Very droll. Please, sit down. I'm going to be leaning on you until your promotion comes through. So I should have you in rank for at least six months. Do try to not make the list before twenty though, young lady. You will give us all airs of inadequacy." Alexander White Haven smile and then gestured over to the full captain senior grade at his side. "Captain Ermine Clarice, my right-hand, keeper and chief of staff."

"I thought Chief Steward Limerias was your keeper, admiral?" Captain Clarice responded with an arched brow. She was even more pale than Sheila, with almost white-blonde hair and startling green eyes.

"That's only in my minimal free time onboard, Ermine." Alexander gestured to his other side. "Captain Senior Grade Merideth Georges, my flag captain of course."

Merideth Georges nodded coolly to Sheila, her long gray hair in a tight ponytail under her white beret.

The admiral finally gestured across the table to the last two people. "Commander Johnathon Charterweight, my Operations Officer and Lieutenant Chloe Northman my Intelligence Officer. I assume that Lt. Commander Watanabe introduced herself."

Charterweight was a sturdy, bald fellow that lived up to his name. Chloe Northman was a younger looking woman with shocking red hair and blue eyes that could have served her well at a modeling agency.

"Yes, sir," Sora Watanabe said.

"And of course, Lt. Lady Manticoria is the youngest member of our crew. Of course, she is a decorated officer who is not to be underestimated," White Haven said with a touch of humor.

"It's a pleasure to serve, sir." Sheila sat down the side from the admiral as his steward made sure to fit a glass of water before the newest arrivals at odds and belying her eighteen years old look, as she was actually probably closer to thirty.

"Now, as I was saying, our second division is lacking a little something in coordination. They are a new arrival, but we need to get them sorted into my wall as quickly as possible. So we will be running sims for the next day, then heading to Manticore-B for some target practice. Captain Clarice, make sure they are updated on our nonstandard tactical plans," the admiral said. "We'll have a conference after the sims live, then-"

Sheila settled in to absorb everything she could. This is what she craved to master, the ability to effectively command a fleet or division.

* * *

"Lt. Northman, I'm actually a little worried about the intelligence download we just received yesterday," Sheila said almost three months later in an early morning meeting. On her shoulder, VC was currently napping quietly after having been fed from a baby bottle.

The petite redhead narrowed her eyes. "Oh? Do you have some insight that ONI failed to notice?" She was a bit territorial about her duties as Intelligence Officer.

"Perhaps or they may not be including that so they can trip up any spies. I can't say I'm an expert, but I think that some patterns might have been missed in the noise." Sheila actually had a very large data graph set up to defend her thoughts.

"Go ahead, Sheila," Admiral White Haven said. They were all fairly informal when just among them, so Sheila's formal response was a bit unusual. Though as the junior officer, she tended to be more formal to her superiors.

"From my cross-referencing, it appears that the Peeps have a severe penetration into our operational schedules and patrols. In 80 % of the cases where individual ships or divisions had followed the same patrol pattern for over three months, they were jumped with overwhelming fire power with almost pin-perfect accuracy."

"That's a serious accusation, Lt. Manticoria," Lt. SG Chloe Northman replied blandly. "Do you have anything to back it up?"

"I do believe so, ma'am. Let me bring up the reports. As you can see," as she manipulated the conference room holotank, "the only ships we did not lose that were on extended patrols of a certain pattern was actually the one that _HMS Bellepheron_ took out by pure chance. That's actually the report that made me realize that the enemy had much better intelligence than they should have had. Right on the edge of the hyperlimit and four battlecruisers to take out one heavy cruiser? They are stacking the deck heavily. And, I believe, they will be able to see any dispersal of our forces in many of our deployments."

Hamish's face had gone tight at what she was saying. In the short months that Sheila had been on his staff, she had almost never been wrong when she was in possession of the correct data. And this looked very solid. "Chloe, is this possible?"

"It certainly looks that way, without tearing into the report. Which I'm sure is very indepth, admiral." Chloe's face was very pale now as she studied the report on her terminal. "I just can't figure out how they could manage it."

"Either they are much better at ballistic scouting missions than we think they are or they have much more stealthy drones than we thought. I think _we _could do it with our latest generation stealth drones, but this is a quantum leap forward in their capabilities. But Occam's Razor states that if you have ruled out everything else, what is left has to be possible," Sheila noted carefully. "I would think they have better drones than we thought. We would have caught one of their destroyers stealthing in that far."

"Chloe, I want you and Sheila to tear into that report. If it looks at all feasible, I want to you forward it to Second Space Lord Admiral Givens immediately. This has absolute top priority," he told them.

They both nodded and turned to start taking the report apart.

* * *

Admiral of the Red Sir Thomas Caprelli was in his office after having just commed Prime Minister Summervale when there was a strident buzz at the door. "Enter," he called out. He quirked an eyebrow at his fellow Space Lord Patricia Givens and his second in command. "You look like you are on a warpath, Patricia."

"Not a warpath on anything other than my stupidity. I can't believe a Staff Lieutenant had to figure this out. We've been suckered and our deployments are being _watched_." The brown-haired woman looked beyond frazzled.

"How does that affect our planned ambush out in Yeltsin?" he snapped out, then visibly took a hold of his temper.

"Probably not much, actually. If there's two places we are pretty sure they can't pull this trick, it's here and in Yeltsin. Too much traffic and fleet presence. The problem is that major forward bases like Grendelsbane, Talbot and Hancock are probably being sucked into dispersal to be jumped by superior forces. We need to warn them all as soon as possible. I would like to activate Chocolate Wisp _and_ Ebon River immediately."

"You want to send out the high-band hyperspace couriers through the secondary junctions? Those are two of our biggest secrets in one shot." He stopped and considered it a long moment. "No, you are positive. Do it. I'll see what I can do to get our deployment moved forward as quickly as possible."

* * *

"Orders to Grendlebane?" Sheila asked Sora Watanabe carefully. "That doesn't seem like a very cautious move." And only six hours after they sent her report to ONI.

"I think there's a trick somewhere. But that's what we been told," the oriental officer said as they walked to the flag bridge.

Admiral White Haven was looking across the plot as his fleet in all but name was moving to the hyperlimit. _Sphinx_ was cruising in the middle of the formation of seven other super-dreadnoughts, six battlecruisers, ten light and heavy cruisers and fourteen destroyers. "Captain Georges, what is our time-estimate to the hyperlimit and then translation?"

"Seventy-five minutes, my lord," the captain said from her own bridge. "From there we will should be able to make good time to Grendlesbane."

"Very good," Admiral White Have said as he continued to study the plot as if the mysteries of the universe lay within.

Right on the tick, the fleet translated up into the beta layer of hyperspace in the direction of Grendlesbane. His staff was going over the information on deployments out to Grendelsbane when he spoke up. "Captain Georges, please open your sealed orders and transmit them to the fleet." The older admiral looked very intent.

Merideth Georges looked slightly confused, but did as ordered. "Are these orders accurate, Admiral White Haven?" Officers on her bridge were showing as much curiosity as Sheila was feeling on the flag bridge.

"They are. Act with dispatch."

"Aye aye, sir. Course change. Astrogator, plot us a course to Yeltsin's Star at best military speed," the captain of the _HMS Sphinx_ called out. "Transmit the orders to change course to the fleet."

"On the chip, ma'am."

Sheila and Chloe shared a look, as if to say 'interesting'.

"As I'm sure you all heard, we are not headed to Grendelsbane, but to Yeltsin's Star. Admiral Caparelli is determined to throw a spanner in the Peep's invasion plan," the gray haired admiral said, showing a bit of his eighty-plus years.

"Disinformation then, I take it?" Chloes said with eagerness. This was the bread and butter of the ONI officer.

"Exactly. Information that we have been sent way out yonder should be headed to the nearest Haven base so that they will try to attack our weakened area, where we are actually reinforcing it. We're hoping that they'll attack Yeltsin against our superior numbers. A decisive blow right at the beginning could turn the tide of the whole war."

"So we should be drawing up plans for an ambush at Yeltsin?" Sheila asked as she pet the treecat on her shoulder who was looking on with sharp eyes. She would have to see if she could incorporate her ideas about quickly degrading the peeps by thinning their escorts. They added a hefty counter-weight to missiles.

* * *

Grayson's orbitals had changed quite a bit. Currently they were in the process of finishing up their very first battlecruisers _Courvosier _and _Yanakov_, much to Admiral White Haven's surprise. Their forts were upgraded and they were building the second batch of destroyers and cruisers from the new technologies that they had learned from Manticore.

"Nasty, heavy bites they have," Sheila muttered as she noted the fewer, but larger weapons. She started to go over the inherent tactical changes that would entail. She was actually liking the concept.

The flag bridge conference room was quiet at this point as everyone watched the fleet that was taking shape. It was quite a powerful force by any degree. Ninety-six super-dreadnoughts and dreadnoughts, plus their escorts of seventy-five battlecruisers and one-hundred and fifty light and heavy cruisers. And that did not even include the destroyers, tenders and auxiliary craft.

At this point, Admiral White Haven, Admiral Sebastion D'Orville and Admiral Wesley Matthews were getting set to beat the disparate commands into a force that was probably every bit as powerful as the Manticorian Home Fleet. Sheila almost felt intimidated, but she was her Admiral's staff lieutenant so was included.

Admiral of the Green Hamish Alexander, Thirteenth Earl of White Haven turned off the tactical plot. "And that's our forces, ladies and gentlemen. We can expect tactical surprise for at least the beginning entrance into battle. What I have laid out is that we use our FTL sensor net to move silently in under converging courses while having a fake force drawing them into a head on confrontation. It's going to require quite a few drones, but they should believe our forces are down to a mere forty-eight of the wall, not the ninety-six that we actually have.

Sheila jotted a note that the actual drones being used were all uniform in their settings. At least ten percent, in her mind, should be pretending to be dreadnoughts while a further twenty-percent percent should be older classes of super-dreadnoughts.

Vice Admiral Morristown happened to see that. "Good point, lieutenant. Smart deception is going to be key. I'm worried about this peeling their escort defense. Is that really going to make a significant difference?"

Hamish leaned forward. "Oh, yes. We've gamed this situation extensively. For a longer engagement, it weakens the wall of the battle by almost fifteen percent very quickly. It leaves them quite naked to focused overwhelming defeat in detail." An innovation that Sheila had thought of, he noted. He would have to remember to mention her in dispatches back home.

"You have a time-dilated exampled?" Admiral Sebastion D'Orville asked his old friend.

"Certainly. This is a hypothetical engagement where we have the two Walls of Battle on converging courses." Hamish showed them the friendly forces that almost perfectly matched what they had available. "This is the key exchange."

The interlacing fire into the aggressor fleet was a careful mayhem, punching holes in their defense force. Most of the admirals noted quickly that the Manticorian ships seemed to take a disproportionate hit, but that was almost fully taken care of by the third volley of missiles. By the six volley out, the Peeps were starting to bleed off damage much more quickly.

"Well, I'm not going to argue with that. If that works even half as well in real life, I'll be quite happy," Sebastion said with grim humor.

* * *

Everyone was in their skinsuits on the flag bridge, twenty days later. The forces that were headed in from the hyperlimit were actually a bit heavier than expected. All in all, it had all the earmarks of a slugging match. It was too bad for the People's Republic that Admiral White Haven had no intention of any sort of a fair fight.

"They'll be hitting minefield Beta-Sigma, admiral," Captain JG Ermine Clarice his Chief of Staff called out.

The minefields were laid out in several globes in a roughly donut pattern in the direction of the least-time transit from the hyperlimit. While the inexperienced fleet commander would come straight in, the smarter planner would come in at an angle that did not add a great deal of time to force them to come into range. But even experience could be planned for... as the admiral had done so.

"Admiral Travers is 'jumping' the gun just as planned," called out Chloe Northman.

Sheila studied the plot carefully as the panicked seeming tight-packed fleet headed out, only showing a slight mishandling. Most of those ships were nothing but fleet colliers, light cruisers and destroyers though. The hundred odd drones, on the other hand should be quite convincing that they were a credible, though outnumbered, force.

There was little subtlety as both forces accelerated towards each other at roughly four hundred gravities. Admiral Panell's force was still shaking itself into formation, but they had twenty-five minutes before anyone could even think to threaten his forces. He was up to about .52c and about to hit the ten light minute mark.

Sheila eyed the converging courses. The Peep commander had no idea, but he was coming in almost the exact course and speed that they needed. "They should be detecting the minefield right about now, admiral," Sheila called out in her soprano-classical voice. "Five minutes until they burn through our stealth."

Hamish nodded. "They are still ignoring our warnings?" he asked casually.

"Not a peep out of these Peeps, sir," a rating said in rare wit.

That got a chuckle out of everyone even as Admiral Parnell's fleet side-swiped the mine-field. They took a fair greater toll of the lighter combatants out than expected, even as his wall of battle was hardly scratched. That had him wondering even as he studied his repeater.

* * *

"Something doesn't look right. That fleet should not be trying to attack us head on," the head of the People's Navy muttered to himself.

"Contact! Many contacts!" a sensor rating shouted from his board. "This can't be right."

Amos Parnell's blood ran cold as light-dots of impeller wedges suddenly filled his board in tentative warnings as the enemy fleet went to full emergency power. That was a wall of battle that was at least equal to his own. "Has CiC verified? Heading change, full power starboard thirty degrees," he called out.

The abrupt and unexpected course change was not well executed, as the fleet split up even as missiles were fired at the Peep fleet in targeted fury. The line of the wall was going to slam into him. There was absolutely no way that he could avoid the energy exchange at this range.

His staff was methodically figuring out the vectors and it was looking back as his fleet tried to shalom through course changes to avoid letting them shoot up his fleet's aft-aspect.

"We're going to be in energy range for sixty-two seconds no matter what, Russ," Amos told his Chief of Staff.

"We're going to get chewed up, admiral," Commodore Russell Perot noted. They were already starting to take significant damage. He had thought the Manties had screwed up, but there was a madness in their method, as their defenses were now quite a bit weaker as the battlecruisers and cruisers could not add to the anti-missile defense. "Our screen is very hammered. Someone set this up-"

"This has to be White Haven. Which means we're pretty much screwed, commodore." Amos grimaced as he snapped more orders. They'd have to come about just right. "All hands, brace for energy range combat." Damn it, he could not roll to escape back across the limit without letting them massacre them with missile fire. He'd have to hope they could smash enough of them in energy range.

The two wall opened fire the moment they reached a range to penetrate sidewalls. The ragged maneuvering of the Peep fleet meant that several of their superdreadnoughts were hit heavy enough to cripple them outright.

That was when when three divisions of Manticorian superdreadnoughts all fired on his ship with missiles. The DuQuesne-class superdreadnought _PNS Bonaparte_ went into critical shutdown just thirty seconds later, then exploded as Fusion Plant number six erupted with the fury of a miniature nova.

* * *

"Confirmation of the destruction of what I believe is the current command SD, sir," Sheila called out. The battle had been going on for almost sixty minutes from the point of ambush, the range was now starting to open ever so slightly. This was the third Peep change of command, as she guided them to take out the new commander. No one was sure how she was able to target them, but her acute senses and preternatural intelligence allowed her to determine the commander's ship by the reaction of the fleet.

Admiral White Haven nodded, even as the _HMS Sphinx_ shuddered under the return attack. Damage displays were showing their horrific losses, though they were nothing compared to the losses that were happening to the Havenites. "How many more cripples have surrendered?"

"Another four have struck their wedge," came the quick reply.

For every four that he was forcing to surrender though, three of his own SDs were having to break off the fight.

"Time to point Zebulon is five minutes," Commander Johnathon Charterweight called out.

"Switch to Plan Gamma-three. Let's try to cripple some more with focused damage," Hamish called out. "Pick a division and have three of our own hit them hard."

In the next five minutes, another ten PN super-dreadnoughts were forced to surrender before the ragged remainder of fifteen ships of the wall and their forty escorts managed to break across the hyperlimit. With a sparkle of translation, they disappeared into hyperspace.

Now it was time to count the butcher's bill, Hamish Alexander thought sadly to himself.

* * *

The Manticorian's loss was trivial. Only five of their super-dreadnoughts were not salvageable. For that and the massive, but non-critical damage, they captured over twenty of the Haven's finest.

Admiral Wesley Matthews nodded at the conference table, his hand nearly knocking over his glass of water onto his datapads. "So we can assume control of twelve of the capital ships. Its far more than we ever expected."

"Two of them are a bit marginal, but if you can put them back into shape, bully for you," Hamish said. "And that still leaves us nine of them. They'll have to be fixed at our own shipyards, but-"

"They will still increase your order of battle and make up for the losses here. And it's not like we have the capacity to repair all of them. Any other news from the other fronts?" Wesley asked.

"It appears that our warning about the Peep's spying on our deployment was almost too late for Hancock, but they managed to put up a decent defense. Rear Admiral Danislav and Rear Admiral Sarnow managed to get lucky with the timing. And Admiral Parks returned just in time himself. He pounced on Seaford Nine in quick succession. So it appears we are holding our own. As soon as repairs are done, I'm going to be heading towards Barnett soon. I'll be transferring my flag to an undamaged ship," Hamish explained carefully.

Admiral Matthews nodded. "Protector Mayhew wishes to extend an invitation to your senior officers to a celebration ball before you depart for Clairmont."

"Of course. There is a great deal to celebrate." Hamish had to smile at that.

* * *

The Graysons had out done themselves, the admiral thought to himself. The ancient fortress of the Protector was bedecked in festive colors. The Steadholders looked a bit uncomfortable with all of the female officers, even if Hamish had only released about a third of his officers to attend the party.

The several admirals (most of them being Manticorian from the large fleet) were sitting at tables near the Protectors own table. Hamish was sitting right next to the Protector, as befitted his status as the conquering hero. He actually had most of his staff, though his Flag Captain was aboard her ship desperately trying to get its repairs done fast enough so that White Haven did not have to move his flag to a less damaged ship.

Sheila was currently mingling among the Grayson men and women on the dance floor, as dancing was for the 'younger' people at this hour. So she was on the floor under the watchful eyes of Steadholder armsmen as daughters and wives danced.

One of the mid-twenties officers of the Grayson navy was actually dancing with her. "I can't believe how effective Prolong really is. That alone is going to change Grayson greatly."

She smiled at him as she twirled through a complex spin of the dance that was one-half square dancing and one-half ball dancing. "I am quite young for my rank," Sheila admitted. Her treecat was easily swaying on her shoulder of claw-proof material.

"Your treecat is pretty young too, correct?" Lt. Cromwell asked as he studied the small creature.

"Oh, yes. She's just a kitten, really. I've been weaning her onto solid foods with the bribery of celery."

The bleek of laughter from the treecat showed what she really thought.

It was as she was dancing that she noted the three guests moving through the crowd. They were wearing the uniform of Manticorian Nary officers, yet she did not recognized them at all. Among the thousands of officers in the fleet, that was not totally impossible. Yet she thought she had been aware of the names of every officer that had been invited to the party as part of her duties as Admiral White Haven's staff lieutenant. It was only after a moment that she realized something quite profound.

That each of the casually moving towards the head table and that each was armed with cut-down pulsars. She saw their muscles start to tense and suddenly moved. A black and gold streak across the room, she barely reached the table as the assassins raised their weapons as one, in a perfectly timed and choreographed move. Palace Security was responding to the movement they could not quite understand, reaching for their weapons against the wrong target.

And Sheila picked up the four thousand pound table and used it to block the crack-crack of pulsars that sought out Protector Mayhew and the visiting admiral's lives. Plates and goblets were flying through the air even as the assassins realized they had somehow missed on their suicidal attempt at the leaders that had saved this world.

Two of the plates were plucked from the air as if they were standing still, suddenly whizzing through the air as half-pound kinetic stikes that smashed into two of the assassins faces as they were turning to secondary targets. The last assassin was just grabbing a older Grayson woman in a very fancy tabbard when his hand exploded as a snarling treecat kitten shredded it and the gun he was holding. Two Navy officers (one for each navy) then managed to grab the last assassin and slammed him down to the ground as the smashing of plates and goblets crashed to the ground

"Nobody move!" yelled out the head of the Palace Security from where he was leaned over the top of the turned over great table, his own pulsar pistol at the ready.

It was quickly sorted out then as palace security swarmed through the crowd. The two that Sheila had hit with impromptu discus were dying, as she had thrown them very hard and shattered the china into their heads. The last one was dragged off in a tourniquet to be interrogated by the head of planetary security.

Sheila was breathing quickly as the adrenaline burned off in her blood. Voracious Curiosity was back in her hands, demanding to be petted which had an amazingly calm affect.

"Young lady, that was amazing what you did. Grayson owes you a very great debt," the Protector of Grayson said as he shook her hand. Behind him servers and security were trying to right the massive table she had used as an impromptu shield, finding it much heavier than they expected. One of the security officers was putting his hand up to the crater that the three pulsar rounds had made in its granite surface.

"Ah... thank you, Protector Mayhew. I just realized I did not know who they were. And considering I went through all the invitations personally, it was quite odd. That's when I looked a little harder and realized they had concealed weapons up their sleeves," she admitted as she continued petting VC.

"How did you flip that table over? I wasn't aware that Manticore allowed for cybernetics of that type in their officers," Benjamin asked as he sat down in a chair that was brought over.

"I'm not cyber at all, actually." Sheila walked over and slipped her fingers under the heavy table through the thick carpet and with a grunt lifted it back up by herself. "I would call myself divinely gifted."

Reverend Julius Hanks raised an eyebrow at that. "That is an amazing assertion. What an amazing faith in your god." The old priest was already sitting, even as Sheila saw Admiral White Haven and Admiral D'Orville narrow their eyes.

"I do not mean to cause an incident or insult your faith, but that is not how I meant that. I am Dodekatheon. My special abilities are passed down to me from my mother."

Reverend Hanks thought over her words carefully. "You _are _Dodekatheon? You are claiming to be of... no _one _of the Greek Gods?"

"You are well learned, Father. That is actually correct. My mother is Pallas Athena." Sheila gave him a stunning smile, showing her dimples but not putting any force of her Legend behind it.

Benjamin started to laugh, only to cut himself off as he realized that no one else was laughing. "That's a very... large declaration," he finally said as he slowly looked among the leaders present. "Admiral White Haven, you don't seem terribly surprised though." Behind him, the rest of the party goers were still watching the ongoing conversation in confusion.

Hamish shared a look with his long time friend Sebastion, then finally spoke. "It is not exactly a secret, but her majesty's government is aware of Lt. Manticoria's supernatural abilities." He suddenly grinned. "Normal people do not make lieutenant before they turn seventeen."

"Admiral!" Sheila said in a pained voice at his tweak of her sensibilities.

"That's okay, I'm pretty sure you are up for yet another promotion. I'm not exactly sure how the House of Lords is going to react to our recommendation for bumping you up to lieutenant commander," Admiral D'Orville said with a discerning eye.

"The daughter of a Greek goddess. That is... quite heretical," Reverend Hanks said slowly as he stared at something that his faith told him should not exist. Gratitude warred with anger at her heresy.

"That is basically the biggest reason I don't trumpet my status, Father. I do not mean to impinge upon your own faith, nor even want to suggest that yours is not true. I am just part of a different religion." She had to suppress a grin at what his discovery of what VC actually was would actually do to his faith.

"It does tend to paint a large target upon you, doesn't it? How many assassination attempts have you survived?" Hamish asked with a small grin.

"It's only eight," she protested.

"Luckily she's so good at her job that we don't dare let her get away," D'Orville noted with his own smile.

Hanks nodded slowly as Benjamin Mayhew was considering and making plans. The Star of Grayson would probably be appropriate. After all, that's what he gave the last Manticorian officer that saved his life.

"You must have some amazing stories," the 1st Elder of the Church of Humanity Unchained asked in a strange tone.

"Well, my last trip to Sphinx was a bit more exciting than I planned. Two fire jotuns caused me some problems until I dropped a cliff face on them," she admitted. "But I did get my companion on that trip, so not all bad at all."

Hamish suddenly looked at VC closely, only to see the treecat wink at him. Suddenly, he was very unsure of that particular treecat.

* * *

The queen's throne room was quite crowded today, as reporters and nobles jostled each other on the blue on blue carpet. The queen was monitoring the crowd on a HD screen in her private office. "My, there are quite a few of them, aren't there?" she asked of her prime minister.

Allen Summervale, the Duke of Cromarty, smiled ruefully where he was sitting in a comfortable leather chair that had conformed to his form. "That is true indeed, my queen."

"And that was quite a spectacular fight in the Protector's Ball Room. Luckily, only the attackers were injured. I'm impressed that her treecat was able to hurt an assassin even as a kitten. Is there something I should know, Arial?" she asked her treecat directly.

It looked like he wanted to reply but eventually rolled onto his back to signal he had given up.

"Now that is almost ominous. I guess I had better ask Sheila about that, too." The queen's eyes were hard as she considered the matter. "Well, it's time to face the music then."

The queen entered her throne room as the sound of the trumpets faded. Sitting herself down, she called out, "Please, all rise."

She listened to her major domo go through the list of business on this day. She quickly answered standing questions from the House of Lords. Finally it came to the Open Questions.

"Your Majesty, do you have any comments about the assassination attempt on Protector Mayhew of Grayson?" the leading HD reporter of Manticore, Brian Furely, called out.

"I find it quite deplorable and inhumane that anyone would use assassination to further their political goals," she replied quite clearly. There were a lot of hard faces among her subjects, as she herself had someone attempt to kill her just a few months ago.

"And the story that Lt. Sheila Manticoria stated that she was the daughter of the goddess Pallas Athena?" Furely kept on doggedly.

"Ah, that. Yes, that is what she has stated," the queen replied, hiding her grin.

Sensing the proverbial blood in the water, he continued (much past the allotted one question!) with, "And do you believe her?"

"Oh, yes. After all, seeing her holding a lightning bolt is quite convincing."

That stunned the entire room for a minute as they all shared confused and startled looks.

Gloria Hendel for the Landing Times raised her hand. "You've seen this with your own eyes?"

"Yes, that is what I said. It was in regards to one of the many assassination attempts on her life. I called her to council and asked her how the impossibilities could have been recorded. As she stated then, she does not necessarily hide what she is, but she does not feel the need to flaunt it either. If you ask her, she will tell you."

"So you believe in the supernatural?" another reporter called out as the hubbub grew louder.

"Three goddess showing up in my office was very convincing," she replied adroitly.

"Has this changed your faith?" Gloria shouted back.

"Decorum, Mrs. Hendel, though I will answer. It has made me pray more, for this is a wondrous universe." The queen looked quite pleased with her response.

* * *

Epilogue:

The fighting below on the streets was becoming more intense, as Proles swarmed over the InSec troops despite their heavier armor and weapons. But it was not nearly one-sided. Cordelia Ransom's eyes, normally a flat blue color were much darker right now as she drank in the heady power of violent revolution.


	4. Command

**Chapter 1: Tests of Ability**

The bridge of the battlecruiser RMN Audacious really did not look that different from the captain's chair, Sheila tried to tell herself. She kept herself looking calm and totally in charge as she commanded the damaged ship back to Manticore. The third watch was quite calm as they approached the hyperlimit of the binary star, the tactical officer overseeing everything. (They had found that she seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, so they had fallen into the habit of not slacking off whenever she was on duty. Or at least slacking off too much, at any rate.)

'Too much stinky metal,' Voracious Curiosity sent from her perch on the left shoulder of her person. Her ears flicked to show she was in a humorous mood.

Sheila's eyes flickered over to the treecat only inches from her eyes with hidden humor. 'Of course. There isn't enough wood on Sphinx to make even a single battlecruiser.' "Lt. Masters, would you be so kind as to inform Captain Danvers and the XO that we will be approaching our hyperspace translation in thirty minutes?"

The junior officer of forty T-years of the Audacious nodded. "Yes, sir!" He trotted out of the bridge at a decent speed, radiating tightly controlled mental anger at the younger officer that was already a higher rank than him.

Ever since she had bonded with the scion treecat, Sheila had been discovering that she was becoming quite adept at picking up emotions in greater facility. And perhaps more, but she did not really have any close confidants that she could use to practice telepathy on other than VC. And that was rather redundant as the treecat already was an active telepath and empath.

Captain Senior Grade Tammy Danvers stepped onto her bridge, prompting Sheila to stand up instantly. "At ease, Lt. Commander. I think you can handle the translation down to real space."

Ah, a test.

'She tests you a lot,' VC noted telepathically, 'but at least she does not hate you.'

Sheila nodded ever so slightly and sent an acknowledgement of that point back her the eighteen T-month old treecat. "Certainly, captain. As you please." As a matter of fact, Danvers had tested her on everything and anything to do with commanding a queen's ship. She had a suspicion on why.

The minutes ticked down as they approached the translation point. They bled off a modicum of speed, but Sheila dropped them pretty hard through the different hyperspace barriers. The Audacious was a warship, after all. And while it was not a crash translation, it was not far off.

In a burst of energy, three-quarters of a kilometer of armored battleship appears back in normal space.

"Ready for FTL challenge?" Sheila called out to her tactical team as Astrogation chimed out the switchover from sails to impeller propulsion.

"Received and decoded," came Ensign's Garmin reply.

Even from just two years ago, the system had been greatly improved. Then, when Captain Harrington had deployed it in the Yeltsin system, it had been a fairly crude system and only able handle very short pulses that took an actual second to generate. The new systems could actually handle about five pulses a second without an acceleration penalty. For ship to ship communication, you could just flutter the edged of your wedge at the cost of five percent of your speed. The effective 'bandwidth' of that sort of communication was actually in millions of pulses a minute. Not recommended for full combat for the most part.

"Manticore System Command directs us to dock at HMSS Hepheastus," Garmin called out. "We've got our docking slip ready."

"Lt. Eivers?" Sheila called out in a cool voice.

"Course is plotted, commander," came George Eivers called out.

"File the flight plan and await SysCom's approval. Then engage at your leisure." Sheila studied the masses of impeller wedges moving to the terminus point and the inner system traffic near the asteroid and two inhabited planets.

'Home!' VC exclaimed excitedly. 'You promised to take me visiting mama!' The treecat was reading the display, though most of the information was above her understanding quite yet. But she had picked up the mental concept of 'Sphinx' from Sheila as she was reading the display.

Sheila sent a non-specific assurance on that even as she continued to crisply give out orders. It would only be three hours until Audacious slipped into its docking slip to repair it battle damage from Sharon's Star. The battered battlecruiser was in a sad state, with most of its port flank a ruin of shattered armor and weapons.

* * *

The door to Sheila's new house opened smoothly, letting VC streak in and start to explore the spartanly furnished four-bedroom stone rambler. Sheila followed more slowly, her luggage on a tow line behind her. Her eyes studied the curving slopes of grass that led to a short range of trees at the top of the ridge.

Her nearest neighbor was a good kilometer away and protected from any bombs that might go off by the small valley they were in. Sheila pursed her lips in frustration from when she had found out that Queen Elizabeth's security detail had been alerted to an intruder in her house from her self-improved security system at her old apartment. The bomb squad from Landing had managed to disable the incredibly explosive bomb that had been left for her homecoming. Living in public housing was no longer viable or safe for those around her.

This home had an even higher level of security, improved by her burgeoning and increasing intelligence. And the ability to bend physics when creating items, of course. The remotes here were almost sentient, whisking her luggage away.

The holotank lit up, switching to the local news. It appeared that the whole planet was still in an uproar over Harrington's killing of the younger son of the Earl North Hollow. The Young clan had its revenge, as the newsies reported that Honor had retired to Grayson and her Steading on half-pay from the navy.

The news muted as a call came in. "Sheila!" Daria Gold exclaimed as she actually got through. "I thought I heard your ship had come in."

"Hello, Daria. Made lieutenant? Very nice," the blonde demigoddess said with a soft smile as she sat down for the first time on her couch.

"My work on Vulcan seems to be paying off. I'm actually helping oversee the construction of a super-dreadnought." She gave a wide grin. "I heard from the grapevine that it's your improved inertial compensator that we are putting into production here."

"Stage 2 or Stage 3?" she asked curiously, double-checking the secure link. She was coming in on the interplanetary FTL link? Interesting, there was barely any lag as she calculated how far they were. Only about fort-five light seconds apart, after all.

"They are actually thinking of going all the way to Stage 4. That might raise a few eyebrows," Daria said with a snicker. Her physical aging had her look like a young fifteen instead of her true age of twenty-two.

Which was still better than Sheila's apparent 'stuck' age of twelve. She was just lucky she had been tall for her age.

But at least it was quite nice to catch up on her first friend from the Academy.

Stage 4 compensators was actually a twenty-five percent increase in acceleration, so quite potent. Super-dreadnoughts faster than most navies destroyers definitely would catch a lot of people's attention. It was too bad that the fleet was not getting fully upgraded yet, as they were not able to apply the new technology to all of the ships. There were at least another two stages of improvements, but there were physical manufacturing problems. That did not even count the Manticorian Hyperdrive yet, still a closely held secret though the People's Republic was starting to notice that Manticorian fleets were sometimes arriving much faster than expected.

Sheila and Daria were just catching up about the two Treecat siblings when a priority message appeared. "Daria? It looks like I have a priority message from the Admiralty. Catch up to you later?"

"I'll send you when I'll be in Landing next week, how's that?" Daria disconnected at Sheila's nod.

Sheila snapped to attention when First Space Lord Admiral of the Green Sir Thomas Caparelli appeared on her screen.

"At ease, commander. I'm just informing about your hearing in front of the House of Lords tomorrow. It should be perfectly standard, but I'm hearing some noises from the Opposition, so do be prepared to be grilled. The queen let me know this personally." The stocky admiral was starting to show worry lines.

Sheila narrowed her eyes as she realized that there was something larger going on. "Of course, sir. Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

"The old Earl of North Hollow is very upset with the military. He can't do anything directly to Harrington at this point, but he is 'punishing' us for our failure in stopping her from dueling with his son. I don't know how likely he is to try and block your out of zone promotion, but the rumors I'm hearing are unpleasant. Even if you never served directly under Harrington," Caparelli said ominously.

"Yes, sir." There really was nothing she could do other than to fret.

* * *

Sheila was sitting at the foot of the witness's table as the session was called into order. The rows of nobles on both sides of the room were quite full, much to her surprise. After all, there was only light business being brought up about purely functionary duties. She was quite aware that she was merely one among the dozen of officers being promoted 'out of zone'. Up above along the top and bottom of the balconies, news reporters and visitors were seated.

She did have to admit, she was probably the youngest ever, but she did have her own advantages. But it was probably a good idea that VC was not here. Hiding a wry grin, she noted that she was the only officer currently here in case she was called upon to testify. The speaker was dispensing his duties, hiding his stress quite clearly as he worked down the list.

Finally the speaker called out the first name of a young officer that was being promoted out of zone, going to full captain a good three years early. The debate was short and to the point, as he was promoted to fill a dead man's boots. Moving on, they now brought up her own promotion.

"A summary of the promotions for Lt. Commander Lady Manticoria a full four years in advance of regulation 'in service'. Does anyone wish to examine the officers jacket before we go over the requested promotion?" Baron Silverthorn asked of the nobles.

One of the Conservative Association piped up immediately. "This is pure favoritism! She is far too young for the duties of commanding a queen's ship!"

Sheila raised her eyebrow at that, as the man was a pure flunky for the older Earl North Hollow. That was a bit more clumsy than she expected.

Lady Greenriver signaled a counter-request. Nodding to the Speaker, she stood up. "Nobles all, we must remember that there is no age discrimination within the realm. This is fact and law which could lead to a lawsuit if approached incautiously."

"Let us refer to the bench to be guided by the account of law," Silverthorn called out.

The barrister quickly stood up as he finished pulling up the information on his portable computer. "Lady Greenriver is quite correct. Due to the effects of Prolong upon our society, laws protecting those that were physically and mentally capable were enacted; the Mellingwell Advocacy Bill. For the most part, this was to protect those that were aged, but it also protects those that are younger than they appear and are not at full growth."

"Let us keep to the matter of Baroness Lynx's record of service. Is there anything there that would indicate that she should be promoted (again!) in such unseemly speed?" the speaker called out. It was obvious which side Silverthorn was really on.

Baroness Mourncreek, First Lord of the Admiralty, signaled to the speaker and stood up. "Indeed there is, my esteemed nobles. I can truthfully state that without Baroness Lynx's contributions to the war effort, our defense of the realm would be significantly weaker."

"Specifics!" shouted out one of the Liberals.

"In such an open venue I can not go into full detail, but her work as an officer has contributed materially to the improvement of our fleet. Her tactical aid in such battles as Third Yeltsin are well documented, where her efforts were checked by a board of inquiry at the Tactical College. At least twenty percent of the wall that we captured intact there was due to her skill. And was noted by her superiors. She has been wounded in battle and even commanded a ship temporarily-"

"A point of contention!" called out another hack for North Hollow of the Conservative Association. "I had heard that there were rumors that the attack upon _RMN Anglicus_ was actually orchestrated in order to advance Baroness Lynx's career!"

Sheila actually beat everyone to the punch as she signaled to be allowed to defend herself, something most officers would be unlikely to do. But her pointed debates during the last several years had toughened her to such thoughts. "Objection, Baron Pleasantisles. I would ask that any evidence be brought forth and charges laid at my feet rather than be slandered with such comments on unsubstantiated rumors. I would be more than willing to defend myself in a court of law, for I know beyond any doubt that I in no way instigated that horrific attack that murdered so many of my fellow officers." No one would doubt her sincerity or anger at the slight as she had let a lot of her anger show on her face while her voice had become even more clipped and proper. The flush of her cheeks laid hint to the anger just below her sternly held control.

Baron Silverthorn nodded to himself. "We shall respectfully stay within the official record. Unless you do have such evidence, baron?"

"I withdraw my point," he said in an angry tone.

Lady Greenriver actually signaled again. "Are all of these public records correct?" She was currently still reading the pad in front of her.

"That is her publicly available record. Only those upon the board of Naval Affairs are aware of the more secret projects she has been involved," Silverthorn admitted.

"Is it actually possible to get these sort of scores? It's a flat 4.0 down the entire course and graduated number one of her class!" another noble called out. "How is that possible?"

"Baroness Lynx, if you would respond to the question?" Baron Silver Thorn asked from his desk in the center of the proceeding.

Sheila stood up and gave him a small bow. "Certainly. My ladies and gentlemen, my lineage is well noted and part of my official jacket at this point. I inherited a modicum of my mother Athena's intellect. Where as my uncle was noted as being the strongest mortal, my talents lay within my ever expanding intelligence with war literally bred in my blood."

"And how is that fair to your fellow officers?" Lady Greenriver asked in deep gravity. The older noblewoman got a round murmurs at that.

The young woman nodded to noblewoman. "Would that everyone could have such talents, but that is not possible in this world. So it is unfair in one sense. But everyone has their talents that they must always work towards their pinnacle, baroness. While I may have been gifted with an incredible ability, it is still up to me to make the most of it for the betterment of the service and our star nation. I have sworn a solemn oath to serve and I will do so to the last breath I have." The murmurs were getting louder as the crowd realized this was far more than they had expected to see this day.

Sheila felt the spike of pure anger and venom from Earl North Hollow as he realized his plans to punish the Navy and her in particular were going to be thwarted. The feelings were very intense, along with a deep-seated fear.

Why would he fear her so? What had she done to antagonize him? And why did she get an image of a flask shattered in fury, gilded with Nordic runes?

Baroness Mourncreek signaled and stood up. "My lords, I have not heard any point of note that would demur us from advancing this outstanding officer in the service during this critical time. We would be remiss to not get the most out of her as quickly as possible. Our star nation needs every edge to bring an end to this war as quickly as possible."

The vote was closer than expected, but passed by a ten percent margin. The promotion to full commander and assignment to Saganami Island for command training was now a fact.

* * *

The newly-minted full commander stepped out of a rented aircar and waved over to Daria in front of the vacation cottage on the edge of a Sphinx Treecat preserve. VC jumped off of her shoulder and ran over to her brother. The two kittens were purring heavily as they rubbed their flanks together. The level of interplay on their thoughts was actually quite intense, causing Sheila to frown in consternation.

"What's up with those two?" the young lieutenant asked.

"I'm not actually sure." The demigoddess studied her friend a bit, then nodded to herself. "It's some very indepth telepathic exchange of some sort. I'm not sure how, but Voracious Curiosity is letting Atlas learn all of her memories since they've been apart."

The young woman from landing blinked and then blanched. "They can do that?" You could see her suddenly looking at Sheila in thought.

"I guess so, but VC hasn't really told me a lot of their culture. I think that's because she doesn't really know that much herself. Being adopted at six months old."

The two treecats had finished up their rapport and wandered back over to 'their' humans. Their looks easily conveyed their query as to when they were leaving.

"Well, they are ready to head into their range. Are you ready for your trek?" the blonde asked her brunette friend. She had informed Saganami Island of the trip and the fact that they may become overdue accidentally. Sheila actually expected as much, as they were heading into the Terra Icognita that housed the entrance to the Sphinxian Overworld.

Daria nodded. She was dressed very sensibly in long jeans, hiking boots and a overly tough shirt made of a material that could resist light pulsar fire. She even had a rifle and pistol, just to be on the safe side in case they ran into something nasty again. Her companion was dressed in a similar manner, though her pants were made of the same pulsar resitant material and she only carried a single pistol, not the rifle.

The aircar was set to be drive itself back to the city if they did not return in a week, something Sheila felt quite unlikely. They both settled the conform-backpacks and then took off up into the preserves on their chartered path. So it was only slightly surprising that they ran into a pair of rangers that 'happened' to be along.

"Hello, ladies. Off for a hike?" Ranger Collins asked. He had a larger and older treecat prowling at his feet, looking at the new pair of sibling warily.

"That's right. Our treecats want to head back to their range," Daria called out. She did a quick round of introductions.

Collins nodded. "Well, if you don't mind, McGuyver and I would not mind following you down this path. Pauline, we'll see you back at camp, right?"

The female ranger nodded as she headed to an aircar.

Sheila decided to ignore him for the while, chatting about Navy and the latest soccer series for the tri-planetary league. Manticore had several teams, while Sphynx and Gryphon only had three apiece.

"I think this is our path here," Sheila said, noting that VC and Atlas were looking down another slot canyons choked in trees and bushes. They had slithered off the path and into the trees, returning in just a minute.

"You probably won't be able to get past that. And it only goes back about fifty meters anyways," Collins called out.

"I think you would be surprised." Sheila pulled out her data pad to punch in a final message. VC had leaped into the trees. The demigoddess was right behind, easily crossing forty feet in an instant.

Atlas started up a tree while Daria squawked in frustration. "Wait for me!" She had to clamber up the tree as best as she could, but she was not going to be left behind.

That would be the last anyone saw of them for over a week.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Divine Troubles and Enemy Plans**

The mountains of Six-Legged Heaven stretched upwards into glaciers and snow, while green forests covered their roots. The scars from her battle against the Muspel giants was already muted and healing. Out of the forest stepped two large treecats and a young kitten behind them.

The left one was cream colored, but with hints of green upon her her paws and the tip of her tail. At her side and nearly twice the size of a normal treecat, black as ebon night with eyes that pierced the shadows stood a forbidding male.

Voracious Curiosity and Atlas both ran forward and rubbed their flanks upon their mother.

"Daria, this is Tree Mother and Night Hunter. I believe they are the main gods of the treecats and Voracious Curiosity and Strong Root's parents. The last little fellow is... Gentle Breeze." Sheila seemed quite happy right then with a wide smile that seemed almost alien on her face.

'Lost One, it is time for thine test,' a deep, dissonant mental voice inflicted itself as if from the darkest nights. 'You must learn sacrifice.'

Between one blink of absolute midnight and another, all of the treecats disappeared.

"That... is not a good sign," the demigoddess said worriedly.

The deep snarls of Hexapuma off in the distance reverberated like saw-blades of obsidian grinding into bedrock mountains.

"What the hell did he mean?" Daria asked worriedly.

"Considering VC and Atlas are also gone, the only thing I see left around here to sacrifice is you, Lt. Golds. And that is not going to happen. We need to get to high ground." With that, they took off through the deep forest.

It was only an hour later that the first Nemean Hexapuma caught up. Daria lined up her pulsar pistol carefully and fired at the fast moving hexapedial carnivore. Three of her fire shots hit even as a lightning bolt slammed home upon its forehead.

"Well, that could have been worse," Sheila admitted as she pulled her lightning bolt 'Athena's Favorite' from the monster. So she was quite tempted to swear as she saw the wound starting to heal. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. She danced backwards from its scything claws.

Daria had holstered her pistol and was busy scampering up to a higher level in the trees, one of the few things she had remembered from her survival training for Sphinx. Sheila caught up at the fifty foot mark, snagging her just before the Hexapuma could land where she had been climbing. The buffalo-sized Sphinxian had taken a two foot divot out of the tree where she had been climbing.

* * *

It had been a harrowing week for the two of them. Daria was currently sitting piggy-back on Sheila asleep, her arms tied around her neck as the young demigoddess ran. Her lungs burned nearly as much as the claws to her thigh and shoulder did. Nighthunter had sent a seemingly unlimited number of the obsidian-black Nemean Hexapuma after them.

At least they had figured out that they could be killed permanently with great effort. That had given them about six hours respite four days ago. Now the Hexapuma hunted them in pairs, which meant that fighting them was almost impossible for the young demigoddess. So fleeing had been the only option left. And even then they had been ambushed at times.

"You really think he is trying to make you sacrifice me?" Daria asked abruptly, startling the very tired girl that was carrying her.

"Yes, but you wouldn't even be here or been adopted by Atlas," Sheila replied through her ragged breathing. "So this is my fault and my responsibility."

The unstated question was if Nighthunter would actually kill her, which they were both fairly positive that he would. He seemed to be the harsher element, embodying the unforgiving nature of the dangers of the wild. And his instruments in forcing his views and opinion upon the humans was the obsidian black Hexapuma.

Snarls off in the distance caused an immediate reaction that Sheila was just too fogged to realize were a reaction, not planned action. So the ambush by another pair of nemean monsters was barely detected before they sprung at her. She only had time to spin Daria off her back and in front of her (held close in an almost hug) as she tried to leap away.

But the branch she was standing on would not give her any leverage as it fell to the ground with all of them, sliced by scimitar claws of obsidian edges sharper than surgical steel. Sabertooth maws then clamped down on her shoulder and leg, trying to pull her away so they could get to their real target. But, confused again, the young demigoddess refused to let them get to her with a tenacity that matched their nearly mindless obedience to orders.

'Stop. Killing her was never part of our agreement, Nighthunter,' the imposing voice of Treemother ordered as she appeared in front of the two humans and two nemean killing machines.

The snarl was both physical and mental, engulfing them all in a cold, icy hate. 'She must learn to leave the weak behind. Not everyone can be saved,' Nighthunter declared mentally as he stepped out of the shadows of the tree.

'Father, it is you that does not understand. To her, some things are worth more than her life,' Voracious Curiosity challenged in a stronger mind-voice than she would have thought she could muster.

Red eyes glowed from the black shadow, a snarl of the coldest winter that promised death.

'STOP! The test is over. Know this, daughter of the human goddess of wisdom and war, what you were to learn here was a harsh lesson. But it appears that we were the ones that underestimated what you would give up.' The Treemother's steps dripped life into the forest floor, brightening the green grass to an impossibly bright depth of life. 'I think you would sacrifice the lesser part if need be.'

'You are correct, Treemother,' Strength of the World said suddenly. 'But her own life she does not feel is worth that sacrifice of her friend.'

Nighthunter narrowed his eyes. 'Survival for only herself... is a selfish thing. Perhaps she has indeed passed this test. Let her think of it back in the human world'

And with that, the two Treecat gods disappeared. Gentle Breeze, the unadopted child of the trio walked up. 'She is badly hurt, brother and sister. Will she live?'

"What the hell was that?" Daria said after she finally struggled out of the vine ropes that had been holding her hands around Sheila's neck.

'That was then end of the test,' Strength of the World sent to her. 'Father says that she might have passed, though I wonder if he would have thought she passed if she had sacrificed you early.'

"That didn't make a damn bit of sense, Atlas," she complained to her companion.

Voracious Curiosity had started to lick some of the wounds on the fallen demigoddess, scraping the wounds painfully. The minor cuts and bruises mended, but the soul-searing bits of the main teeth were too ferocious to be dealt with so easily.

"Not quite the resounding win I was hoping for," the young woman complained.

"We're alive!" Daria said with a frantic tinge to her words. "I'd call that a miracle." She hugged her adopted treecat ever so tightly.

* * *

Commandant of the Advanced Tactical Course, Commodore Anthony Styles III, looked at the short row of ten officers. From a crusty old officer that had finally broken a red mark on his record with his actions at Yeltsin, to the youngest at the end who (charitably) looked like she had gone three rounds with a Sphynxian Hexapuma. She had her left arm in a cast and he could see walking casts on her lower legs.

"At ease." Everyone relaxed under his hard, blue eyes under his lined and aged features. "Commander Manticora, would you like a chair?"

"I'm fine, sir," she replied steadily.

"Very well. You are all Class 1-A of the command course. For the next three months, you will learn command. You will live tactics. And you will become the very best of officers." He walked up and down the isles. "And after you have finished this, you will be sent out to command ships in the Queen's name to defend her realm. You have all received your syllabus?"

They all nodded curtly.

"Very well. Dismissed. Manticoria, please stay," he ordered. He studied her. "I had heard you were injured, but nothing beyond that it was some sort of ritual. Would you care to explain how you endangered yourself and came to such harm?"

"It was a religious trial from Nighthunter, the Treecat hunter-war god. He was trying to make a point to me. During our disagreement, I got hurt for my efforts." She stood easily at attention.

"So a treecat did that to you?" Commodore Styles then thought for a second, then blinked. "A treecat god?"

"Actually, it was his giant Hexapuma pets that did the greater part of the injuries."

The commodore had actually seen a Hexapuma ripping into one of the larger herbivores of Sphinx one time on vacation. "I guess congratulations for surviving the incident." He shook his head wryly. "Be that as it may, I have to ask, do you need medical leave to heal up? There will be other opportunities for command training."

"It shouldn't slow me down too much. As long as I rest heavily in the evenings, I should be find."

"Very well." That was a good thing, as Styles was hoping to see how well she did here.

* * *

******Interlude:**

Thomas Theisman nodded to the pilot of his pinnace as he walked to the exit hatch. White Haven was essentially crushing any fleet he could around Trevor's Star, but even he was having trouble with the concentration of forces out there and at Barnett. And supposedly this fleet was going to be doing something about that.

Vice Admiral Alexander Thurston seemed like he had a decent idea of how to get the Manties to react. So he was only slightly worried about the upcoming surprise meeting. His command's 'citizen' commissioner, Denis LePic, seemed just as surprised as he was.

He stepped across the free-fall section and into the gravity of the battleship PNS Conquistador. His Citizen Commissioner was only a stumbling step behind him. "This is a little worrying that we aren't being allowed to bring our staff to a planning meeting."

"I'm sure there is a few reasons for that," the commissioner replied blandly.

The flag bridge was only a lift and a short walk from the boat bay. Thurston nodded to them as they entered. It looked like most of the other rear admirals had already arrived. But it was the petite woman with blonde hair cascading down her very civilian and expensive Parisian suit that caught his attention. He could think of few good reasons (and many personally bad reasons) for Cordelia Ransom, Secretary for Public Information and member of the Committee of Public Safety, to be here. The red-headed woman who was nearly as tall as he was at her side was studying them all intently, but stuck out quite a bit with her civilian skirt and jacket that looked to be from the Asgard Confederation.

"Admiral Theisman," Thurston called out. "You know Citizen Secretary Ransom, of course. This is Marjorie Sylvester, an important intelligence asset."

That almost made sense, but still didn't explain the public face of the revolution being here in a top secret meeting. "Citizen Secretary. Miss Sylvester," he replied politely. He was trying to figure if she was a first generation prolong or if she was actually younger than him without prolong. The streaks of gray made it hard to decide.

"This is all of your fleet commanders?" Cordelia asked as she looked them all over, her sharp dark-blue eyes studying them all.

"Yes it is. The citizen secretary wanted to speak to us all here about a rather interesting bit of information." Thurston knew that Ransom had combed his records about his ranking officers, so she was trying to play the 'I'm just a clueless girl' act.

"Very well. I have been as briefed about operation Dagger and Stalking Horse as I can to understand them. The details of Stalking Horse are really a bit confusing, but seems to be simple enough in concept that it should work to draw off the Manticorian super-dreadnought defense from Yeltsin. I suppose."

"We have a very high confidence that we can hit Yeltsin quite hard," the vice admiral said in calm acceptance.

Ransom did not look so convinced, but it was hard to say why. "We have an intelligence windfall that we think we want to use to our best ability. We have some substantive information that Honor Harrington has been given some command in the Grayson fleet. According to our analyst, we believe that she has likely been tapped for captain of one of their fleet ships, similar to how she was used in Hancock under Sarnow. If she is captured, we are thinking of having her shipped to Haven for sentencing on her murder of the Sirius." The blonde secretary of the committee then smiled. "We have also just recently been given information on another officer that appears to have just been shipped there. Frankly, our intelligence agents can't believe the Manties would ship such a promising technical officer to any ship command."

"Are we going to try and capture her to to break the secret of their advanced compensators?" Rear Admiral Chernov asked, distaste hidden only lightly in his voice.

"While that would be the best option, I've been told by the staff in the Octagon that it would be totally unfeasible to try and mount such an operation in the middle of an attack.

Thank god, Theisman thought to himself. You would think the rear-echelon pukes would know not to try and complicate what was already a fairly involved operation.

"No, we'd rather that she and her ship just did not survive the engagement in any shape or form. She is almost a beacon of the plutocratic nobility, based upon her supposed lineage. It is abhorrent that even the concept of rule by divine providence can even exist in our modern, enlightened age. Miss Sylvester?"

Thurston frowned at that, while Theisman carefully kept his face blank. Like a lot of officers, he had seen the HD recordings of the assassination attempt on the Protector of Grayson. Privately, he had even had his best electronic wizards try to spot the digital wizardry. He was unsure if their inability to spot any discrepancies was due to technical wizardry or not. Personally, he had a hard time believe in demigoddesses running around doing physically impossible feats of strength.

It appeared that most officers around the table felt the same.

The red-head nodded. "Some of my intelligence assets in Manticore space have been keeping an eye out for such a tidbit of information and have garnered a fairly accurate sensor map of the light cruiser _RMN Phoebe_ under Commander Manticoria. Not only will it be a public coupe to kill this 'daughter of Athena' but from some sources, it appears that she was heavily involved in developing the advanced compensators and some project dealing with hyperdrives."

"I think we can let this one out of the bag to our illustrious officers," Cordelia said with a smile that carried no warmth nor caring.

"We think Manticore broke the Iota barrier. Several of our merchant ships from Asgard space have been keeping fairly regular shipments within Alliance space and we think we caught one of their courier's name having traversed the distance between Manticore and Casca in something that we believe in excess of 22 % faster than any courier could have physically travelled." The demigoddess of strife smiled at their consternation.

All of the admirals present were trying to wrap their heads around that concept. Thurston was the first to react. "We'll have to adjust our timetable for Dagger a little bit. And that is quite a bit worrisome about our long range naval doctrine."

Ransom looked a little confused for a seemingly innocent reason... for once. "Is that such a big deal?"

"Potentially. But for the most part... not for their ships of the line. While they will have better strategic information, they aren't likely to have much of their fleet upgraded. Though that does explain why they seem to be so responsive, which has had to hurt us at Barnett and Trevor's Star. If I had a brand new technology like that I would definitely upgrade our couriers first, which is why we probably spotted it there. But you can't just pull your fleet off active duty to upgrade them," the Vice Admiral stated as he adjusted to the shock. "We may want to see what we can do to get that technology ourselves ASAP. We have a lot bigger space to transmit messages across, so it will actually help us more than it will them." For the time being, anyways.

Thomas Theisman was considering that in his own head and not liking what he was coming up with. "And this commander was part of the project? Why did they give her a combat command?"

"She graduated on the command track a few years ago," Meredith Chavez said as he entered the conversation for the first time. "How she could get through the academy with skills in engineering like that makes you wonder why she did not end up in an engineering track. It's a total mystery."

"I heard she was on White Haven's command staff at Third Yeltsin. And I heard some strange things about what had happened there," Theisman interjected as he leaned against the holo-tank's bracing to ease his calves.

"You are referring to the fact that any time that fleet command shifted to a staff officer... that their ship was targeted within minutes of assuming command?" Thurston asked slowly. "That's pure supposition. If the Manties had that ability, they would have used it in other battles."

"How many of those battles had this Manticoria as part of their command staff?" Theisman asked carefully.

"You aren't seriously subscribing to some sort of supernatural power allowing her to target our command and control, are you?" Chavez asked in derision.

"Something strange happened there. From what I heard, the ships that we did get out of there were pretty much wrecks and the Manties captured nearly a quarter of the wall we had sent there. Even if a lot of them weren't that repairable, that's still a decent shot in the arm for their forces while being the largest single fleet loss in the history of our navy," Thurston noted. "But we are getting a bit far from the topic of discussion. I apologize for that, citizen secretary."

"No, I can see why you would be curious. Along with the loss of Manticore's major alliance with Grayson, the death of either of these 'heroes' of Manticore is something that we can not only capitalize internally, but might allow us to really crack open this alliance. With a bit of carefully worded set up in the Solarian League, we might even be able to get them to overturn the weapons technology embargo," Ransom explained carefully. "That's a bit of my job and Foreign Services, of course."

"In fact, with the new Lynx Junction, Manticore is pretty much a swear word to Solarian Shipping. And any more stress on Manticore is a good thing in my book," the Aesir demigoddess said with a hint of a ferocious smile. She pulled a small data pad from her pocket. "And here is her ship's specific sensor signature, though some of my personal contacts."

"So you want us to target her ship as a fairly high priority?" Thurston asked intently.

"Yes. Making sure she dies is a very high priority of the committee." Ransom looked almost hungry in a vicious, animalistic manner.

* * *

An hour later, Ransom and her two bodyguards were escorting Marjorie Sylvester back to Ransom's personal ship, the battlecruiser PNS Tepes. "So, for your continued support and smuggling Solarian technology, one death of a demigoddess thorn? This really appears to be a mutually beneficial agreement," the voice of Madam Guillotine said through her 'human mule'.

"Of course. Though I did not think you would be taking such an active interest in any revolution outside of the Solar League," Marjorie said in curiosity. "Sly Slaiger Lokison gets her permanently out of his hair and I finally get the chance to move into the Overworld as one of his proxies."

Madam G. just seemed amused, the lips of her human body twisting slightly. "Ah, yes. I would have thought you Aesir would have figured out your little trap of predestination."

"Perhaps a bit better than your revolution against your father, Baron Samedei? How many Millennium has that been going?" the much younger woman said as her face flushed in anger, almost matching her hair.

"I've been quite successful. In fact, there is something quite amazing in the near future. I wonder if you will be there for it? Your prolong seems to be fading a little bit," the goddess said through pouty lips.

"Well, this-" Marjorie said as she rubbed her hand through her hair, brightening up her red hair to the dark-red copper of her youth. "-is getting there. Though I admit, I'm very glad that prolong allowed me to live long enough."

Cordelia's lips turned up in a mocking smile. "True, so not a waste. Could I interest you in expanding our deal? My Incarnae loves her men, but is a bit afraid of the enemies she has made. Eitir? From a dead Jotun or Muspel, of course. We can't have pesky loyalty issues."

"And what would you offer in exchange for the life of an immortal giant?" the daughter of Slaiger Lokison asked cautiously.

"When your life is at Death's door, you may call upon me and I will grant you succor. Even Hel or her son the Prince of Hel, Djorgen, will have no sway over you," the goddess of violent revolution and death said as her eyes seemed to glimmer with impossible depths.

"That... is a godly gift," Marjorie admitted. "I agree. When next I visit, I will have it."

Madam Guillotine nodded and then laid her hand upon her shoulder, imprinting her mark of her namesake as a tattoo. "Then the deal is set." And she would be able to keep an eye upon her ally.

Marjorie nodded as she summoned her signature purple fire and then disappeared. She had a ritual to decipher from ancient books. Though the idea of summoning a horde of fire imps to torment your foe at fateful moment was very tempting.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Command**

Commander Baroness Lynx Sheila Henderson Parthenos Manticoria walked at a brisk pace down the crowded tubes of HMSS Hephaestus, towing her luggage behind her on the repulsor lift skids. The guards at the dock came to abrupt attention as they recognized her uniform and that she was headed to their station. There were dozens of crewmen in front of her.

The officer in charge quickly waved the regular crewmen and non-coms to the side. "May I see your papers?" he called out formally.

VC bleeked happily at his thoughts as the chaotic jumble came from all the regular crew suddenly being in the company of their commanding officer.

"Of course," Sheila replied, handing over her security chip. She waited patiently for him to scan it, but that was almost a formality.

"Everything appears fine, Commander Manticoria. And congratulations," the major said. He snapped off a sharp salute, followed by the rest of the guards and sailors.

Her return salute was so crisp it could cut a sheet of paper.

_RMN Phoeb_e was stretched out on either side of the tube with umbilical attached, but the 'Cruiser Light' which was to be her first official command looked like it was only doing a light bit repair work on one of the laser mounts. She floated down the tube in perfect precision with her luggage. With a thrill in her heart, she put on her white beret of ship command.

She handed off her luggage to an automated drone and then headed to the bridge to take command.

"Captain on the bridge," bawled out the marine sentry at the main hatch even as he and his fellow came to attention.

"At ease. Lt. Commander Reynolds?" she asked of the older man just standing up out of the captain's chair.

"Baroness Commander Manticoria," he replied with a sharp salute and then accepted the data pad, verifying the transfer of command. "I do request relief of command." He had short, wavy brown hair and a close cropped beard and looked like he carried a powerful build on his body.

"I do hereby relieve you of command," she replied formally. Her fingers tapped in her authorization codes, then commed open the ship-wide overhead. The whistle sounded all through the ship as she read the order to take over command of a ship of the navy. "-thank you and I hope to meet each one of you shortly."

Lemius Reynolds was surprised at her pure presence. He had met natural leaders, such as well respected admirals like Givens, White Haven or even Harrington, but none of them had such an overwhelming direct impact. "Captain, did you wish to settle in or did you have something else in mind?"

"Let's just start with the highlights of our refit," the otherworldly girl asked of him.

To Reynolds, it looked like she was too pretty and had obviously spent too much money on body-sculpting. Along with her title, of course, so he immediately became a bit biased against her. "Phoebe is just finishing a standard refit for the laser mount 4. We've already had the second generation of compensators and they just put in the new Mark XXII hyperdrive. Other than that, we are just topping off our reserves in stores."

"The XXII? Already? It appears that we are going to be part of the fast reaction force assigned to Grayson then. That's Vice Admiral Mallsey's task force. Interesting," the young looking girl mused. "Set up a meeting of department heads and we'll go over out duties.

"Of course, captain." Fairly standard rote, but at least she appeared to know the strategy of her new ship's hardware, Reynolds had to admit.

Three hours later, the senior officers were all assembled in the captain's conference room. On an older ship like this, it was a bit cramped. Sheila studied her new officers from a strange and new perspective. She accepted their salutes then took a minute to shake hands as she moved to the top of the oval conference table.

Lieutenant Commander Lemius Reynolds was a self-possessed young officer. Just like herself, he had been promoted out of zone twice and had served with distinction at Third Yeltsin. A subtle tension existed as a barrier between them for some reason. She hoped it was not due to being promoted over him and taking command of the Phoebe.

Her chief engineer was the self-assured Lieutenant Commander Kent Briars. The red-head was only slightly paunchy, as he was a 'maverick' promoted from Manitcore's merchant marine fleet. His graying hair gave him a serious look even as his blue eyes twinkled merrily.

Lieutenant Senior Grade Charlemagne Tor Augustus was a very calm looking woman of dark skin and (strangely) blue eyes, which hinted at her background as an exotic beauty of a genie slave from Mesa. She was among the oldest here at forty-five and was supposed to be quite the wizard at tactics.

Fourth was Lieutenant Senior Grade Mary Loves, who was only three months behind in seniority. She had also just come aboard as the newest astrogrations officer. She had a plain face and a poorly healed up nose and was known as a bit of a hothead. Like her new captain, she was young for her position at twenty-eight years old and looked like a quite young fifteen years old.

Lastly was her Surgeon Lieutenant Commander Cherry Pattons-Smith, another plain-faced woman who was going a little flabby, her long, black hair down up in a braid down her back.

"Welcome everyone. How is everyone settling into their slots?" She listened to their pleasantries that everything seemed fine. "Lt. Commander Briars, I understand that we are only hours away from full readiness?"

The stocky engineer nodded. "That's right. I expect we'll have our order to leave any time now."

"You would be right. We are to undergo our abbreviated trials and then take haste to our posting in Yeltsin to join the Grayson defense fleet." Sheila studied her officers to see if any of them showed any problem with that and was happy enough to not see any. "This should be a fairly quiet posting, according to our dossier, but we are at war so I expect us to be at our one hundred and ten percent best. I've got some of my own personal imprint in training that I would like to run past you to see if you think will help out, but it is going to be your call." She turned to her XO.

"We are at establishment on all stores, " he responded to her unspoken question. "So all we are waiting on is our release."

"Good, though we'll want to see what we can squeeze from BuShips for extra supplies. Lt. Augustus, I understand we have six Middies?" Sheila continued, moving around the table as she got the status on all stations. Tactical, Astrogation, Engineering and Medical were all passed through.

It seemed like things moving along quite quickly.

"Very well, folks. I do believe we should know in the next day or so what our orders are and who we'll be escorting to Yeltsin. We will probably be the junior ship in any task force for the foreseeable future, so plan accordingly."

* * *

The Phoebe exited hyperspace in perfect formation for the short convoy. Six mega-freighters and the other escorts were exactly where they were supposed to be; two more light cruisers and a destroyer that quickly set their position to defend the frieghters. The Phoebe was actually on the sharp end of the stick as the lead scout. That did make things slightly tense and was very quiet on the bridge.

"Have we gotten our challenge yet, Lt. Loves?" Sheila called from her sacrosanct position of the captain's chair. She was petting Voracious Curiosity who was drowsing on her lap.

"Just received and responded to, captain," the plain-faced woman replied without any preamble. She had quickly found out that when the too-young seeming captain asked a question, she expected you to have already handled the basics. Her junior astrogator had gotten a slightly frosty treatment for not have a plot laid out for the obvious departures. "Course is plotted and we are just waiting for local Astro Control to give us the command."

Sheila was studying the plot closely. "I'd like a recon drone to give us a close up on that asteroid field. It's unlikely for there to be anyone there, but I'd rather be just safe than sorry."

Reynolds frowned at what he felt was a frivolous waste of a drone, but he could see why a captain might spend a drone. It was just highly unlikely that anyone could sneak in an attacker here.

The minutes counted down as they trundled down the path Grayson Astro Control had given them.

"Captain, I have a freighter that seems to be lying in the shadow of one of the smaller asteroid," Lt. SG Charlemagne (Charlie) Tor Augustus called out.

"Update firing solutions and put them in the can just to be on the safe side. Light up the freighter with active sensors from the drone," she called out immediately.

The strobe of radar and lidar hit the freighter without response, but the three light cruisers on the other side of the asteroid became quite visible.

"Contact! Three ships lying in the shadow, they are launching!" Charlie snapped out.

"Alpha-one defensive fire," the captain called out as she frowned. The emissions looked like something the Alliance would use, so this was likely a drill being run on her ships. So she would not fire on anything but their missiles until she they had 'killed her'.

VC was suddenly awake, looking around at the displays with long practice. 'Trap!?'

"Two hundred missiles incoming!" one of the assistant tactical officers shouted in a panic.

"Alpha three. Belly up and random barrel roll, Mary. All hands brace for damage." They must have had missile pods for that amount of missiles. So this was probably Lady Harrington's way of 'testing' them on awareness. She noted happily that the rest of the convoy was reacting, though making the immediate choice to try and duck across the hyperlimit by a sharp ninety degree change of course. That was a bit too simple, in her mind. But not her call.

"They all self-destructed and we have received a message that we are 'dead with seventeen hits' for the impromptu exercise. _GNS Terrible_ was the transmission in the clear," Reynolds said in confusion.

"Well, that's enough to vaporize any light cruiser. Mary, would you convey our congratulations to Lady Harrington for the clean kill?" the young captain called out.

Far off in her super-dreadnought, Lady Harrington raised an eyebrow at the courtesy call from the 'killed' ship. "That was rather quick on the uptake," she said to her flag captain. "Send my gratitude for being a good sport. Thank you, Howard."

Captain Alfred Yu nodded slowly. "I'm a little concerned that she didn't try to take a shot at the three ships that just killed her."

"She took the only possible response to the attack." The Admiral of the Fleet frowned as she considered things, as she ran her hands across her command ribbons of sky-blue Grayson uniform sleeve. "Three to one odds, she might have gotten one or two hits, but severely weakened her defense. Even so, she was still killed." She wondered if the young captain had realized it was Alliance ships, so refused to even fire because of that? Honor decided she would have to ask. There weren't a lot of officers that would not have the mind to even think about that in the short fight. In fact, that exercise had been a little hotter than she planned, as they were supposed to get closer to range and then announce the kill at energy range.

"Only seventeen hits," Yu noted unhappily. Then he grinned cautiously. "Then again, we were expecting them to be totally surprised and only block a quarter of the missiles, not over ninety percent. So that's the 'pagan harlot of presumption', as the Grayson newsies call her?"

Honor just laughed at that. "It will be nice to not be the most hated woman in Grayson space right now."

Back on the Phoebe's bridge, they were settling down from the very sudden and startling exercise.

"That was not exactly the safest exercise. We could have killed some of their men," Lt. Commander Reynolds said in aggravation.

"That's why I didn't shoot at the ships, only their missiles. Well, other than the fact it was likely futile," the young captain noted lightly as she pet her Treecat who was starting to get quite a bit bigger as she hit her 'teen' years. "I wonder what other surprises that Admiral Harrington is going to throw at us?"

"Well, we'll just have to be at our best," the XO groused, very unhappy with the fake brush with death.

* * *

The captain's pinnace from Phoebe thrummed through the sound proofing as its forward edge started to bite into the atmosphere. Only another fifteen minutes and they would be landing at Harrington Steading for a private dinner with the rather (in)famous officer. The seventeen year old waited after they touched down.

"Don't forget your rebreather," the pilot called out.

"I've got it here," she said as she patted her belt. Not that she would use it, as she was sure she was mostly immune to the radioactive dust of the planet. VC had also grown rather tough herself and just purred in agreement.

There was only a single, old man at the end of the runway and one ground car. He was actually wearing his own rebreather, even though he was a native and was giving off quite the worried feeling as he noted that she and her Treecat were not, in fact, wearing theirs.

"You really should be wearing your filter. The dust storm is vicious right now," the old man called out, even as he held open the door. "I'm Howard Clinkscales, Harrington Major Domo."

"Commander Manticoria," she said as she quickly shook hands. "This is Voracious Curiosity."

The old Grayson gravely shook the Treecat's hand, then slipped in behind her into the back of the car. His dark eyes studied her curiously, then he grinned. "You don't happen to be planning on disrupting any more assassination attempts, do you?"

"No, but something could happen. That is the weight of duty and fate." Strangely, all Sheila could feel from him was polite interest and perhaps some wariness.

'He's a good person,' VC stated after a quick decision and touch of his mind glow.

Sheila grinned slightly at that. 'You are the native empath.' She leaned forward to peer out the car's window as she saw a sight that she had not seen since she was a child. "Baseball?"

"Well, at least you recognize it," Clinkscales said with a touch of whimsy in his voice as he remembered . "It's Grayson's planetary past time."

"That looks remarkably... normal, even after two thousand years." It had been a while since she had felt so home sick, the loss of everything she had in her previous life was suddenly tearing a painful hole in her heart.

Voracious Curiousity started purring even as she tried to fill that void.

The old soldier frowned as he realized he must have touched a sensitive issue. Just like his lady, the young girl was desperately holding to her Treecat as if her life depended on it suddenly. "I apologize if I was being discourteous."

"Nothing of the sort, just a reminder that I can never go back to the place I grew up. So I'll have to make a new home where I'm at," the young blonde replied even as the two rubbed their cheeks together. "Which is odd, I had always thought baseball was rather silly. Even the local team that my step-parents rooted for."

"No one can dictate their heart. My word, I had forgotten that you were born before Grayson was even colonized. You do look so young."

"I'm pretty sure that just about everyone looks young to you," she cautiously joked. "I am not quite eighteen yet, even if I was on ice for a very long time." In fact, her birthday was coming up shortly.

'That's better. Laughter is good for the soul,' VC telepathed as she continued to sooth her human.

"I almost wish I had prolong, but I think I've lived a full life," the old man said, thinking back fondly of his wife and children. He gestured across the back of the limo towards the large building up ahead. It was quite large for a manner, but it seemed to have a lot of people going in and out. "This is our stop."

They exited the limo and walked in a side entrance as they heard chants in the distance from the front of the building. "I seem to have picked up some angry protesters," the young demigoddess noted.

"Ah, yes. I thought they had decided that Harrington Steading wasn't the best place for that, but I think some of the locals don't necessarily disagree about you, even if they nearly worship the ground Lady Harrington walks. A bunch of foolishness, that. I found out that you aren't even officially affiliated with that temple in Landing and have never asked for anyone to worship you. A most modest deity," the old curmudgeon said with a rumbling laugh.

Sheila just sighed at that comment, something she had heard in too many forms over the last few months.

The staccato beat of practice swords drifted down the hall, causing VC to tilt her head slightly. 'Sword practice?'

"That's right, Voracious Curiosity. Sounds like sabers of some sort," Sheila replied.

With exquisite courtesy, Howards opened the door to an exercise room where a tall, muscular woman was being trounced by a smaller man. Both were wearing light padded suits and head protection and approximation of the Japanese katana with more European hilts.

Honor held up her hand. "I'm afraid we've over run our time, Master Dunlevy. Better luck next time."

Thomas Dunlevy, the second master of sword of Grayson just chuckled as he removed his own meshed helmet. "Just keep telling yourself that, milady. It's probably good for your bruised ego."

"I understand you were fencing valedictorian when you graduated from Saganami. That will probably be good for your standing as one of the Protector's champions," the older woman said, ignoring the good-natured comment. She towered over everyone in the room.

Sheila actually blinked in surprise at that. "I didn't realize that it was necessary. I'll have to make a saber, just in case. And perhaps find someone to practice against like yourself." Hadn't it been over a century since the last duel in the Keys? "There's not exactly a lot of call for sword dueling on her Majesty's ships." She suddenly had a rather inane thought of driving off boarders in their power armor with a cutlass.

"No, there really isn't. I don't think I've been keeping Master Dunlevy too busy, so he might be willing to cross sabers with you at some point," the lady of the house stated with a small smile. She gave a wave to her swordsmaster as he left to change. "Protector Benjamin asked that I talk with you about that. Did you see the protesters out front?" Honor continued after seeing her nod. "Unfortunately, you are probably the least liked Manticorian in existence. The Graysons at least only call you names, while the Masadans of Endicott... well, I wouldn't suggest ever trying to visit there with anything less than a army brigade of heavy armor."

Clinkscales chuckled suddenly. "You know, I just realized they are calling you the reincarnation of the Harlot of Satan, in spite of the fact that you were born before the colony ship left for Grayson."

"That might be a bit tricky, wouldn't it." Sheila tilted her head, her shot bob of blonde hair twisting slightly as she studied Nimitz as he carefully approached VC.

Her Treecat, on the other hand, leaped off her shoulder nuzzle a second with the older cat. They started sharing the very in depth telepathic communication between their kind. Honor's startelement was almost shouting loud telepathically.

'Quite the amazing thing, isn't it?' the demigoddess projected as she smiled at the antics of the Treecats.

Honor suddenly spun around so fast she almost tripped. "What was that?" she demanded.

"Lady Harrington?" Clinkscales asked in confusion.

Sheila was a bit surprised and it showed with her wide, green eyes. "Sorry, after bonding with Voracious Curiosity, I've developed a few telepathic talents and I'm afraid I surprised Lady Dame Admiral Harrington with an outburst."

"Ah, from her bond with Nimitz as they seem to share an extra wavelength together. The two seem to be done greeting each other." Clinkscales was very curious, but trying to not show it.

The much smaller, juvenile female looked at all the humans one at a time. 'Now what did you do?'

'I'm afraid I might have startled Laughs Brightly with my telepathic conversation,' Sheila admitted to her Treecat companion.

'Can hear me?' the timid and wavering mental voice of the admiral came to them.

Nimitz turned and looked at his human in surprise as the two Treecats and Sheila responded affirmatively, 'Yes.' Even if it was the equivalent of baby speak.

"Well, that is surprising. We'll have to trade notes," Sheila said brightly to change the subject.

"I believe Miranda is having a lunch held. Howard, would you mind escorting Commander Manticoria to the dining room and I'll catch up in just a minute?" At his nod, Honor retreated out a side door.

* * *

Sheila decided that the lady must have flown through her shower and wardrobe at something approaching MACH speeds, as she had barely been seated and chatting with Howard Clinkscales for only a few minutes. She stood up and bowed deeply. "Lady Harrington."

Honor accepted the bow with a nod. "I'm glad I didn't keep you waiting. Though I'm quite curious as to Nimitz's reaction to your friend."

"Voracious Curiosity? She shares a similar background to myself as daughter of the Tree Mother," Sheila admitted with a small shrug.

Howard and Honor blinked in surprise and then looked at the young cat that just bleeked at them in laughter then preened herself at all the attention.

"In fact, she's basically my minder and to remind me that Sphinx has more than just mortal concerns in the Star Kingdom," Sheila admitted carefully. "Though I could not imagine being without her."

The old soldier of Grayson was looking at the Treecat in quite the bemused shock. "I guess demigods are crawling out of the woodwork."

"They are more around than you think," the young, human demigoddess admitted.

"Could you answer my curiosity on a matter?" the Steadholder asked intently. "Why did you change your name to Manticoria? Some people have called it very strange, if not disrespectful. Some have even claimed it is a power play to the throne, though considering your friendship with the queen, I can't see that." Behind her, her Major Domo perked up as he had been wondering about that.

"I took my cue from my elder sisters. Brittania, Goddess of the Britons and Columbia, one of the patrons of the United States of America. This kingdom is mine to protect and cherish," the young demigoddess said. "Brittania is nominally the patron of Manticoria, but I do not think she will begrudge me in assuming her responsibility. If I can live up to my perhaps overblown attempt to match her example."

Honor whistled at that. "Well, you are definitely moving up quickly in the world."

The young demigoddess's dark feelings on that matter leaked to Voracious Curiosity who leaped off her artificial perch and onto her lap, purring heavily. "Sorry, I'm having bleak thoughts again today. I suppose, considering all things, I'm not doing too badly. I just keep failing to match up to my mother and her instant ascendance to prominence after bursting from Zeus's head, Hermes's stealing Apollo's cattle in his cradle and Hercules actually fending off monsters in his own cradle..." She hugged VC close to her.

Clinkscales snorted at that. "You are still alive and becoming one of the modern greats. Perhaps in a century or two you will be as well known as them. I don't think becoming maudlin over baseball teams is becoming an officer."

"She didn't try to break them up thinking they were fighting, did she?" Honor asked in muted horror (and humor!)

"No, unlike someone that we shan't mention, I did happen to know what they were doing. Baseball is actually older than I am after all," she replied with a wide grin. "It just gave me a bit of homesickness."

The old Grayson could not help himself and started laughing in a deep tone, startling everyone else in the room. That was when the first servants arrived with lunch and topics turned to lighter matters.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Dance and Disaster**

A month later and Sheila was starting to feel very good about her ship and crew. She was part of Grayson's screening element and had just finished a boundary patrol on the Hyperlimit in stealth and along Yeltsin's thick asteroid belt. She had actually ended up in charge, as the Lt. Commanders that captained the two destroyers may have had years of experience, but she had the rank.

At this point, they were settling in to Grayson's home fleet during the latest exercises. Following fleet tactical orders instead of helping to shape those same tactics and strategy under Admiral White Haven was quite frustrating to her, though she never let it show as she captained her pride, the _RMN Phoebe._

Harrington had rearranged her fleet for a bit of chicanery that had to be seen to be believed. She had socked away a small taskforce of all second or third stage compensators and with some flagrant disregard to protocol rules on drones, had the Manticorian aggressors thinking that this was a larger fleet that was busy running clumsily away from a pincer trap while quite a significant force was skulking around ready to spring the trap.

"Coming up on turnover," Reynolds called out.

"Aye aye. Prepare for maneuver," Lt. SG Loves called out with well oiled effeciency.

"They should be picking us up on their sensors just about now," Sheila said carefully, wishing that VC could be on her shoulder. But in a normal combat situation, her Treecat was relegated to a life support module in her (too cramped) quarters. But at least she could feel her through their (soul?) telepathic-bond.

The 'enemy fleet' (in actuality a group of visiting super-dreadnoughts with escorts from Manticore on their way to Trevor's Star) suddenly became aware of of them as the hidden fleet suddenly disgorged loads of missile pods and then went to emergency speeds while fleeing. They were on the edge of the engagement envelope and shooting up the kilt where the only missile defense was missiles and lasers.

In the ninety seconds of their engagement, the battlecruisers and heavy cruisers had unloaded nearly five hundred missiles in their direction. By the time they were localized and the Manties could shoot back... they were at the range where missiles would be just barely ballistic. Which meant they were as good as useless.

And the Mantie admiral must have realized it too, as they just tried their best to deal with the two pronged attack. Most of the time it would be a matter of concentrating fire, but with their early damage (and loss of one of their walls) they were suddenly fighting defensively.

Three hours later, the aggressor force was routed handily, even though they had an even match in numbers. A little use of local resources like the fast missile colliers (that just had to be more of Admiral Harrington's chicanery in use) and the wall had again been suckered into another group of missile pods.

All in all, the Grayson forces were learning their way while changing the face of the battlefield forever.

"So you see here, with this implementation on Mantie automation, we can start building a cruiser just about anywhere. It's a little complicated keeping everything organized, but other than the Blackbird yards, we are really decentralized," Lt. Commander Jameson of the Grayson Navy was explaining to the visiting officers. The conference room in the main naval administration office in Austin was quite full of blue and black uniforms.

"I personally feel that Blackbird is actually a little exposed. As its not considered a populated planet, it would be incredibly easy for a fleet to pop, dash in through the meager hyperlimit around the gas giant and cripple the operations there," Sheila replied from across the table as she flicked through the positional data and designs of their shipyard. "The cellular level does seem to work, but I think that has to do with social expectations from your Church, actually. It instructs people to rise to challenges which promotes an awful lot of very competent people."

That got a laugh from the Manticorian and Grayson officers.

The door swished open as an ensign walked in at a double trot.

"Miller, we are in a meeting-!?" Jameson said until the ensign got close enough to whisper in his ear. "Gentlemen, if you would excuse me, but a matter of grave concern has come up." He gestured to the rest of the Grayson men to follow.

An hour later, they were informed that a massive construction accident had happened. Grayson's media establishments were going nuts with rumors of shoddy worksmanship, substandard materials, bribery and the death of four workers on sight.

"And I can't believe a word of it. This is Skydome's very first big project and is basically being set up to seed their business for the next twenty years. Admiral Harrington is not the sort of person that would ever skimp on something like this." Her blue-green eyes were studying the display quite closely.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but at this time all our meetings are cancelled until further notice," the ensign replied.

That left Sheila to play hostess to several junior officers that had been part of the engineering and technical delegation in a hermetically sealed guest house in the capital.

They were all sitting in front of the holo-display as the media seemed to go insane. Accusations of shoddy worksmanship, substandard supplies, financial irregularities were the top of the news. The fact that there had been school children tours through the site had been brought up repeatedly.

Lt. Ayamo Stevenson just shook his head in bewilderment. "This really doesn't look good."

"There has to be a mistake. There is no way that Admiral Harrington would allow something like this to happen," Lt. Samantha Farles noted. She had served under Harrington previously and had a very high opinion of her.

"Even worse, it would have to be someone being stupidly incompetent," Sheila noted as she took a fruit juice from the robotic server. "Skimping on your first customer doesn't show everyone that you can build them."

Ayamo looked over in surprise at that. "Oh? You sound like you know more than the average off-worlder."

"I invested a little bit into that enterprise. Every person at Sky Domes is intensely dedicated to the project as they really believe it can help Grayson expand dramatically. There will still have to be emergency equipment, but open doors and porches to the yard sounded like a dream to them. And I can't see them skipping out on that at all." Sheila's blue-green eyes studied the vicious lambasting of the talking head on the news. "This is angering me with the way they are treating her."

That was when her personal com blipped and announced a priority call. She nodded to the other Manticorian officers and then stepped into the hall. "Commander Manticoria here," she said to the pickup. "Mr. David Luvien." How had he gotten this com-code?

The man that appeared on the screen was actually someone that Sheila well recognized, as he was one of the newsmen that had been ripping into Harrington and Sky Domes just moments ago. "Commander," he said briskly. "I'm here to get your comment about the horrendous disaster that has befallen Mueller Steading."

"A private inquiry or did you want a public statement?" Sheila asked, carefully emoting just a touch of worry.

Luvien hid a smirk on his face as he just about leaped onto the comment. He was young, only in his mid-thirties and quite ambitious. "A public statement."

Sheila had slipped her mind through the intervening computer systems with a small surge of legend, verifying that the news broadcast was on a timed broadcast delay. Mentally she went over a quick speech, then locked the delay down so it could not be interrupted due to a technical 'glitch'. "I would be happy to make a statement for the public, Mr. Luvien. Honor Harrington is one of the most dedicated, professional women I have ever met or served with. She embodies the best of loyalty to those above and below her and only wishes the best for her Steading and the people of Grayson. The engineers and officers of Sky Domes are dedicated to bringing their domes to everyone on Grayson, to help families grow up without having to live in fear in their own homes." Her legend surged, lending weight to her words even more greatly as Fate was twisted to her will. "I am sure that Harrington and Sky Domes will do everything in their power to find the cause behind this and resolve the problem."

"Ah, that's all. Thank you Commander Manticoria." The newscaster anchor did not actually look at all pleased as he seemed distracted by something someone was telling him off screen. "Goodbye."

Sheila wandered back in to see herself on the large holotank, looking very impressive in her black uniform with its mess of ribbons. She listened to herself as she made her statement, watching the other two Manticorian officer's reactions.

"That's some high octane speaking. I didn't realize you had any public speaking credentials," Lt. Stevenson said very slowly.

Lt. Farles eyes were quite wide as the words had shaken her to the core of her heart. "Well, I have to say I'm all ready to go offer up my services to help Dame Harrington."

"I didn't speak anything but the truth," Sheila tried to say modestly. "But I'm not going to let them spin this on her in the most negative way possible."

"How did you manage that?" Samantha Farles asked curiously.

"They must have had a small technical glitch in their broadcast control," the young demigoddess said in such a bland tone that it caused a laugh from the other two officers. "What would you like for supper?"

* * *

Honor Harrington had been struck savagely in the one place she had never thought possible, in her personal honor. She had been pulling herself back up from the brink after the murder of her beloved Paul, the man she had loved and even considered marrying. Coming to Grayson after being set on half-pay during the war she had trained for her entire life had been an act of desperation; to get away from the horrid memories and nightmares.

Now even here she was tasting the bitter ashes of despair as the local news lambasted her as a foreign cash monger, putting her interests before her people. She had turned off the news an hour ago and sat in her chair looking out into nothing, wondering if she had really failed herself and her people so horribly?

"Lady Harrington, I think you want to turn on the local news," James 'Mac' MacGuiness called out as he rushed into her private room.

A glimmer of hope was fed from the wonder she felt from her trusted valet. So when she turned on the holo display to listen to two news-heads arguing about a statement, she was a little confused. The linked connection to Sheila's statement as the girl's voice thrummed in her heart; her belief was strong and showed a faith that Honor was beginning to doubt in herself. But like a fire, the smallest spark could ignite a great blaze.

And it appeared that not all of Grayson was being taken in by poisoned words. News reporters that had been lambasting her an hour ago were now thoroughly questioning their own position and statements. Motives were brought up and discarded as Honor's service record and every other business venture was examined.

Those that still questioned Honor's innocence voraciously were suddenly being asked to show just one example of her previous failures or misconduct. The fact that her only documented reprimand had been for the assault on the Honorable Reginald Houseman, who had tried to order her to abandon Grayson to the Masadans did not help their cause to make Honor look worse. Even the killing of the hired gunman Summers and the death of the Earl North Hollow's son at her hands for the murder of her lover, Paul Tankersley showed her character quite clearly.

Suddenly, not everything looked quite so horrible any more. She had been reminded of why Sky Domes was being created and the will behind everyone involved. "Mac, get me a line to Sky Domes . We are going to cooperate fully with security and find out what really happened."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

"How could they have blunted our plan? We had everything going perfectly! God seemed to be with us and we were getting the exact reaction we were aiming for," Marchent complained in their private meeting at the Mueller homestead. The defrocked priest was quite beside himself with anger and frustration.

Steadholder Burdette frowned as he checked the latest polls. Everything seemed to be building to the level of outcry where his faction could have easily ousted Harrington and seriously threatened the Protector's base of power. For four hours it had been going up like a rocket, then slammed into that other damned harlot's interview that somehow went out live. "Why didn't they squash that statement?"

"A 'technical' glitch. Or a miracle. And the facts from everything else that Harrington has ever done are overwhelming that she will not cut corners unless it is an emergency that requires it. Even her actions that received censure from her own government shows that it was only the pure cowardice of the ranking civilian that drove her to strike him across the face." Mueller hated to admit it, but he likely would have challenged the fool Houseman to a duel. And then run him through someplace painful that were not immediately fatal.

"How bad is it?" Burdette asked.

"We are not going to be able to push her out and with Benjamin protecting her... we might never be able to."

It was time to be looking at some cut-outs, he started to think. And some more drastic actions to protect his dear world, gifted to Graysons by God himself.

* * *

"At ease, commander. I would like to extend my personal thanks for your statement. It meant a lot to me and Grayson Sky Domes," Harrington said. She still looked a bit wan, but was back into fighting trim and could even sleep for a few hours here and there. Her mind shuddered away from how horrible things could have been if children had been killed as some lurid news reporters had envisioned and then told everyone that would listen.

Her personal steward McGuinness was thrilled, though he wished she slept even better. Her Armsman Andrew LaFollet silently echoed Mac's sentiments as Commander Sheila Manticoria smiled warmly at her.

"It was nothing but the truth. I've never seen you less than one hundred percent dedicated to doing your utmost and you bring that out in all of those under you, ma'am," the young demigoddess said, even as Voracious Curiosity nodded sagely. "I will admit that I tricked that newsie into a false sense of hope that he could skewer me with a poor sound bite. The fact that their time delay just happened to fail while on live TV had to be entirely bad luck on his part." She gave her superior officer a more feral grin there.

"I had wondered at the timing of that. I get the feeling that he will be a bit more cautious around you in the future. Sky Domes is tearing apart everything they can from their end, but they are a bit limited on data access. Planet Security has had to exclude them, though they have quite publicly gone on with all the information on their designs. Even if our competition could turn around and use it in the future on their own projects." That had troubled Honor just a little bit, but she could see why Clinksdale and Adam Gerrick had decided to do that. None of the technologies were exclusive to Grayson, having been purchased from Manticore as part of the economic incentives package when Grayson joined the Alliance.

"I have utmost confidence in Gerrick. I'm actually having to reign in my want to help, but a ship's captain, no matter how smart, should not be poking her nose into a ground engineering problems," the younger girl griped to herself. "I can't do everything on my own, of course."

"Just do your most at what you are allowed to do. I understand there is some pressure back in Manticore to force you onto the technical track. At least according to a little bird that happened by recently," the taller woman said.

Her eyes flickered over to Mac who was bringing in a platter of cheese and crackers along with her Armsman at the door. "I could probably do quite well there, but I need to impress upon my Legend a more martial imprint." At Honor's worried mental emote, she held up a hand. "That isn't to say I'm a glory hound, Lady Harrington, but that I have to push my legend along as far as I can. I still need to find out what happened to my mother and the more powerful I am, the more I can defend myself against Loki's son Slaiger, the new Norse God of Deceit. After all, our fates are entwined and he's already made several proxy attempts at killing me."

Honor's dark chocolate eyes gave her a brooding presence. "That is one of those downsides to your status, isn't it? Hercules had Hera's hatred, after all." She had actually studied up a bit on the old legends, like many people when Sheila's parentage had come up.

"She's not terribly fond of myself either, actually. But we were in the process of fighting a war against the released Titans," the girl noted as she shrugged again. She took her fruit juice from Mac with a smile.

"I still don't understand why you have such confidence in myself," Honor finally admitted slowly, then took a sip of her Tilman's.

"If you don't mind me interjecting?" Mac asked in a very polite tone. "I'm sure she just can see the superb officer that you try to project."

Honor grimaced that. "I'm not some sort of super-woman, unlike some present company."

"You managed to inspire me on my very first time in space. I might have been accidentally dragged along on the Fearless, but no manner of physical ability would have allowed me to survive. Just your wits, intelligence and bravery under fire in an truly trying situation. I studied the disaster you had been sent in to by Pavel Young. You could not have been given less support or more rope to hang yourself, yet you succeeded without an ounce of divine blood or favor." Sheila smiled. 'And we can feel how much you care for everyone.'

Honor felt her cheeks blush at the praise, especially at the pure and true feelings that the younger girl was letting her see. "That very nearly got me in trouble, but your refusal to press any charges along with the fact that you immediately joined the academy made the Admiralty only give me and my officers a verbal reprimand over it. It was a bit hectic." Now a deep amount of regret tinged her emotions.

That got her a quick mental scolding by two treecats and one human, much to her surprise.

"Admiral, let's leave it at Fate's whim. If it could send me centuries into the future, why could it not let me be inspired by you? Don't beat yourself up about that. We have too many important things to consider. Like the fact that this attack upon your reputation using your company and your people is just that; an attack." Sheila's eyes were quite cold. "The facts of some sort of accident had barely been reported and the first accusations of illegalities came out."

"It sure seems like that at times," Honor said while she shrugged helplessly as she held Nimitz to her chest.

"They had a fully researched blurb inside of fifteen minutes. While I could see someone jumping in on the bandwagon, it was too thoughtful and too well researched."

Honor nodded, wishing that this had all happened at a different time. With BatRonTwo moving to retake Casca, her command of the largest and most important defense fleet of Grayson weighed heavily on her shoulders. "So you are saying this is actually politically motivated." Honor's face had suddenly stilled as that shock hit her system.

"Yes. Some workers were killed and they are trying to use that to push their agenda against the Protector and yourself, Admiral." Sheila was frowning as she considered matters. Her supernatural powers lent themselves to her intellect and awareness, but her cute trick with the news reporter was about the best of her abilities to politically manipulate things. She had to admit to herself that she was more of a leader rather than an unscrupulous politician. "One thing we have to be aware of is that this could merely be the first step of a longer range plan that I think I've disrupted. They may become more desperate."

"Then I think the news that Adam Gerrick is on his way here for some reason is probably good news rather than more bad." Honor was thinking things through quite hard.

That did not quite cover the surprise as Adam Gerrick led Reverend Julius Hanks into the room. Sheila listened intently (and mentally congratulated the engineer for his concise and accurate work) as he explained that it had been external sabotage that had led to the domes collapsing.

"That explains why Mueller allowed a dome to be created. I had thought that unusual. A little clumsy, but who would suspect that he allowed it so that when it collapsed he could be the aggrieved partner, supposedly betrayed by 'that unnatural woman' and her godless ways. Not that I think you are godless, ma'am," Sheila said quickly.

"Please, call me Honor. What do you think, Reverend?" the admiral said as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully as she pet Nimitz.

"It does make a certain sense. Since people lives were lost, both from Sky Domes and Mueller's steading, this has become a matter of murder most heinous. Minister Sidemore is being brought in, as this could be construed as an act against the Sword. At least Prestwick with Planetary Security believes it quite possible," the man of faith admitted.

Honor tilted her head slightly. "And you are here?"

"To let you know that the Protector is taking this quite seriously. It obvious that parts of this are being manipulated quite heavily for the common man. In fact, if it had not been for the heartfelt recommendation given by Commander Manticoria, it is quite likely there would be strident calls to remove your Key."

That got an angry look from Honor and her Armsman.

"The Protector has called a meeting of the Keys to discuss this matter. Unfortunately, it does not look like we have any proof of who is behind it that will stand up in front of a court," Hanks admitted.

"Yes, but they don't know that. Carefully phrasing the summons to the Keys could tip them into making a mistake. But I think we should send Adam here to bed before we wake him. He is suffering from extreme exhaustion," Sheila said. "He'll be fine with rest, but he really should sleep for about six to ten hours."

Adam was indeed quite asleep, as he had finally felt able to rest once he had given over his burden to Lady Harrington.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Assassination and Mayhem**

Sheila shifted uncomfortably in the acceleration couch of Honor's pinnace. She had offered to head back to her command, but the admiral of Grayson had noted that she might be called to serve as witness as one of the holders of the Star of Grayson (and the second of Protector Mayhew champions.) She had given a raised eyebrow at the slightly less ragged form of Adam Gerrik as they went through the pomp and ceremony of getting an Admiral down to the ground who also happened to be a Steadholder.

"Sorry. But there was just so much to bring," the chief engineer of Sky Domes said apologetically.

"You were just lucky I was along to cart this mess," she grumped in good humor.

He had his mini-comp, data chips and miniature HD unit. On top of that he also had a complete hardcopy documentation of every stage of the Mueller project and his study teams' conclusions. That ran to over thirty kilos of paper that Honor's staff lieutenant had offered to carry. Only Sheila's ability to pick it up with one hand (dantily even!) had managed to dissuade him that it was not needed. Luckily for him, Sheila could do maneuver in Zero-G that most seasoned spacers did not believe possible to put all of his luggage away easily.

The young demigoddess was studying the civilian dressed Harrington. The dress seemed to suit her, the girl decided. She herself was wearing a simple formal suit of Manticorian make with a baby-blue ruffle. She petted Voracious Curiosity on her lap as they communed to quite a deep level.

Andrew LaFollet was in charge of the 'ground detachment' of the Harrington Armsmen. He appeared a bit unnerved that the slight girl who was only an inch taller than him had manhandled the heavy package with one hand, her duffle on the other.

Her own sword, something she had crafted in Phoebe's machine shop several months ago, was quite visible by its hilt sticking out. As the third ranking officer, she was sitting next to Honor as the Steadholder and Admiral. Reverend Hanks was a bit bemused by all the hoopla to take a simple shuttle.

'Shall we take time to practice?' the much taller woman asked telepathically, the emotional context quite overwhelming in eagerness. Nimitz and Voracious Curiosity both looked at her with wide eyes.

Sheila smiled at that even as she slightly nodded. 'Although you might want to tone done that slightly,' she telepathed back carefully with only a touch of commiseration. 'That might be considered shouting with your hands waving around.'

'Oh? Really?' Honor replied as her mental voice became steadier. 'I'm still amazed that I'm making any progress with this. I thought I was too old to adapt.'

'Too old? The Beowulf Medical Journals I've been reading have suggested that theoretically there might be a 'booster shot' type enhancement on the latest prolong. Mere mortals might live as long as they want, not just a few short centuries,' she replied with a giggle.

LaFollet put his best suffering expression on as he realized that the two women (well, one woman and one girl that could be his daughter) were obviously discussing something while being perfectly quiet in there seats.

'I don't know that I would want that, although I suppose having your family and friends around for longer might be appreciated,' Honor admitted after a moment consideration.

Sheila sent the image of children outliving their parents by decades and decades. 'I think it had to do with the trauma of first generation prolongs outliving their parents by such a large amount and the ever extending durations of prolong. We are defined by our parents.' The young demigoddess frowned. 'Even myself, though I have not found out what had happened to my own mother.'

'We all have to grow up some time,' the older woman tried to emote in a comforting manner.

That actually seemed to backfire, as Sheila's mood worsened. 'Everyone but myself. I appear to have accidentally stuck myself at eleven years of age.' The Pinnace started to cut through the upper atmosphere.

'So you will not change in appearance?' the Steadholder asked curiously.

That got Sheila to send back a bleak, humorless laugh even as VC snuggled up to her closer. 'I can change my appearance, but that isn't the truth. I wouldn't be me any more.'

"The expressions you are showing are quite interesting," Reverend Hanks noted curiously from across from Honor.

"Oh, sorry. We are, um, practicing projecting there," Sheila said, feeling very mortified at what was probably being very rude.

The pinnace suddenly lurched, then fell heavily off to port and dove vertically. The scream of air-breathing turbines rammed to full power and the pinnace was still veering sharply left in a desperate, controlled maneuver.

Honor had reached across the open area between her seat and Hanks, dragging his head.

"Crash positions!" Sheila yelled out.

The pinnace finished its dive and tried to pull out, but Master Chief Troubridge only almost pulled out perfectly. So he bounced the tail of the heavy assault shuttle, built of super-polymetals and meta-ceramics that would laugh at oldstyle 600lb. bombs.

The impeller-driven surface to air missile ripped the first one-sixth of the pinnace apart like an blender through a snowman. The pilot and crew all died instantly as they were composted into fragments and pureed flesh. The pinnace continued its destruction crash as Sheila desperately knocked away the falling overhead storage bays with inhuman strength. Hydrogen storage cells exploded after they ejected onto the tarmac even as the short stubby right wing and super-turbine cut a path through the concourse in a path of obliteration.

Dozens of people had died in the assassination attempt, but it had still failed to kill its target; Honor Harrington. VC and Nimitz were hissing in abject anger as Sheila pulled a three foot spike out of her shoulder while healing the serious gash on Honor's face and neck that almost caused her to bleed out. "Evacuate!" Sheila shouted even as she helped Reverend Hanks and Honor to their feet.

Lafollet groaned from where he lay bleeding to death if he did not get expert surgical help within seconds, his right arm crushed and shards of his ribs lay shattered in his broken chest.

A wave of Sheila's hand revitalized his life force, leaving him merely heavily bruised and unconscious. Then here petite boot slipped under him and flipped him onto her arm even as they moved to the emergency exit. They slid down the inflated escape tube to the tarmac, far away from the burning fires.

A quick glance around led Honor and Sheila both to head to the recessed edge of the runway.

"That was everyone," Sheila said to the survivors. They were a right mess, soot-covered, scorched and covered in more than a bit of blood.

VC suddenly hissed, looking off in the distance. A moment later, Nimitz joined in.

"What is that?" the battered Steadholder asked woozily.

"Supernatural troubles. Something is coming through the fires. Some sort of elemental fire demon. I think we are about to learn about a threat from their mythos," the young demigoddess said cautiously. Blue-green eyes passed over the figures, temporarily bolstering their life force.

Several varieties of creatures, crafted of purple fire, dashed around setting more and more of the spaceport ablaze. Emergency response teams were starting to find out that the fires were nearly impossible to quench as they seemed to ignore the need for fuel as it expanded behind the malicious spirits.

"We are needed to stop this before a lot more people get hurt. Stay here and keep your head down, Lady Harrington. This was likely focused at you or myself," Sheila shouted just before she took off in a blur.

Harrington guards had started to shoot at the burning monsters that were spreading fire in lurid trails of red fire. The roaring dragon leaped towards one of the young men, only to explode in the air as a lightning bolt struck with deafening power.

Fate seemed to fill the air, deadening Sheila and Voracious Curiosity's senses as much as the smoke tried to do. The pair hunted through the smoke. Abruptly, the young tree cat turned back the direction they had come from, snarling out her warbling war-cry.

Even in the middle of the blast-furnace heat, Sheila's heart chilled in sudden worry as she took off after her psychically-bonded companion. So she appeared through the smoke like a rocket just in time to see an old man step in between a Harrington guard and the Steadholder as the soldier fired his pulsar at short range.

A heavy presence of fate, of binding, was settling over the smoke-choked disaster as Sheila felt something that strove to hold her to only witness but not interfere as the old leader of Grayson's predominant Church of Humanity Unchained died in Honor Harrington's arms.

The murderous assassin raised his pistol to finish killing his target when he suddenly realized that he had just killed the most important religious leader of his world.

Sheila almost shot him anyways, but with a twist of her will, instead dashed across the ground towards the man.

"Lord, forgive me! I did not know! I did not know!" the assassin was screaming out in despair and outrage.

"Alive! We need him alive!" Honor called out as she saw the young girl hold up the frantically despondent assassin off the ground by his neck.

"She is a far better person than I am," Sheila said to the assassin in Harrington's soldier colors. "I would have just killed you."

* * *

Sheila stood in the back of the Conclave of Steadholders, feeling a bit like the fifth wheel. She kept half a mental ear as Nimitz and Voracious Curiosity conversed. Honor's Treecat had been quite happy that someone was able to finally clear up a lot of the confusion he had about Humanity and their (by the alien's thinking) strange ways.

The protector finally arrived, even as all the other Steadholder and newsies watched. More than a few of them realized something was abjectly wrong as the door warden neither challenged nor invited Benjamin Mayhew into the room. The older man walked to his near throne-like chair at the top of the horseshoe arrangement. Honor Harrington's seat was quite empty, her bared sword upon a cushion in front of her seat.

It was only after he started to speak of treason and traitors within the room that they realized that the 1st Elder of the Church of Humanity Unchained had not followed him in.

The drama played out with Honor entering the Conclave and demanding justice against Steadholder Burdette. Sheila's blue-green eyes studied the steadholders, noting men who held power. Burdette was a given, as his assassin had confessed being sent there. Mueller, on the other hand, was very convincing. She doubted that anyone else would have seen the minute tensing of his muscles that betrayed he had not been shocked at the idea of an attack on the Harrington Steadholder.

Sheila continued to listen as Honor made her entrance and declared her grievances for the murders of her people and the attempted murder of herself. Then it was her cue, as she decided to showcase herself in a legendary manner. Her hair lit up, like strands of sunlight as she stepped out of the shadows.

"Protector Mayhew," she called out as all eyes turned towards her. "More than Grayson was attacked, as allies against the encroaching Havenites were injured or killed. Two of her majesty's soldiers were killed while I myself was injured."

Burdette stared at her like she was some sort of strange vision that he could blink away. "This harlot declares that she is an injured party?"

The gathered Steadholders found themselves stuck between two imperatives. Their First Elder had been murdered and a Steadholder attacked, so their duty was clear. Yet their fear and hatred of the young girl who was flaunting her inhuman nature in front of them cried out to remove her from their sacred places.

"These are indeed serious charges," Mayhew said, hiding his surprise at her visage quite well. He studied the two women in front of him. One looked like some sort of Amazon, tall and regal in her Grayson style robes. The other looked like a very young girl in the navy blue formal uniform of Manticore. His eyes narrowed as he realized she was carrying a sword. Both of their treecats were watching the scene intently.

That was when the traitor made his last bid for his life, invoking the right of the duel to decide his fate. He had noted that his female opponent was a bit battered and thought it the easiest way to 'discredit' her and the Protector.

Honor Harrington's response to accept it did not surprise Sheila like it did almost everyone else, as they had sparred a few times and she knew how deadly the women had become with her Grayson style sword. Benjamin found himself stymied, as he did not want his champion killed. The tall woman from Sphynx took the choice from him, asking if he wanted him dead or just defeated.

The end (after a small delay for Burdette to have his sword delivered) was quite shocking, as Harrington killed him with moments of the first swing. On live HD, everyone saw the champion of the Protector mete out terrible justice.

It was only as Sheila was leaving that the newsies swarmed over to her. As she did not have any bodyguards and real prestige here, she was quite a bit more open game to the local paparazzi.

"Do you believe that it was divine justice?" an older, bald Grayson reporter asked bluntly.

"I do believe justice was served, as Steadholder Burdette has met his end after his heinous deeds," the girl replied simply. Even with her 'stuck' apparent age of eleven, she was nearly as tall most of the reporters.

"What is with your hair?" another, younger reporter demanded.

"I am merely making a statement of my status." She closed her eyes and in an eyeblink, the hair had turned (temporarily) to a white-blonde instead of the silky sunlight. "I have no reason to hide who and what I am."

"Would you have stepped up to accept the duel if Harrington had not?" a third reporter asked.

"There was never any doubt that she would do her duty, so I could do no less. I am afraid that it would have been less challenge than just me killing him. I do have some physical abilities far above a normal man or woman," she replied simply. At that point, she continued to her own air car.

"Steadholder Harrington would like you to accompany her back to her Steading and then to the fleet, Commander Manticoria," one of Protectors Own said as he slipped into the driver's seat.

"Certainly. Though I'm not sure what she wants," the teen mused to herself. She cuddled with her Treecat as she considered if she had hurt or helped matters here today.

* * *

Sheila followed Honor out of the pinnace and into the gravity control of the _GNS Terrible_. She was following along like a good, junior officer, though she would be happy to get back to her ship tomorrow. For the nonce, she was going to be debriefed on the whole sordid mess and how this should be explained in her official report back to Manticore (and to the Queen).

Honor was looking a bit muzzy, as Sheila had offered to help her nap out on the short trip into space. The tall woman with long, dark brown hair turned to the Manticorian officer. "Well, I still think I need a bit of real sleep. But I should be up in about six hours. We can go over the report to the Admiralty. I mean the Manticorian Admiralty. In the morning."

"I'll have a first draft ready for you. I am going to com the Phoebe and make sure that Lt. Commander Reynolds has any pressing paperwork that I have to do that he could not sign off on."

Honor nodded, even as she sleepily picked up Nimitz. Her Armsmen followed behind her, the lead one nodding to her as they passed.

So four hours later when the Peeps showed up, Sheila was still dressed and finishing up one of her very concise and easy to read reports.

The young demigoddess slipped into her uncomfortable skinsuit, avoiding thinking about the problem of Voracious Curiosity who did not have her own life support system here on-ship. That was back on the Phoebe. The com-chime at the door admitted a young lieutenant.

"Pardon me, miss, but the admiral sent me to make sure you are fine. She invited you to her command center at your convenience," the young Grayson explained.

'Send me to Laughs Brightly little safe-house,' VC telepathed to her human.

"That's a good idea. Why don't you run along to the admirals quarters," Sheila said to her Treecat. At the lieutenants questioning look, she gave him an explanation. "She figured out that the best place to stay would be in Nimitz's life support module."

"Smart that," he said in admiration.

VC took off down the corridor at a run, a literal blur of motion even as Sheila let herself be led to the admiral's command center off the bridge.

Honor looked up as she entered the bridge. "Manticoria. I want you to take a look here," she called out. Her command staff only looked a little surprised.

Her blue-green eyes studied the holo tank and the estimated ships in class and numbers. "That's a large number of battleships. A neat trick to gather those without tipping off NavInt, but not impossible. They are generally used for rear security and suppression of dissent. Troop and fast cargo ships? And staying beyond the hyper-limit. Not here for Grayson. Not nearly enough ships to occupy the planet and orbitals. So potentially here for a snatch and grab. And if they pull back after getting our specifications and samples of hardware, they can even hit Endicot on their way out. Just one of those freighters full of modern weapons could turn that whole occupation into a bloodbath."

Captain Yu whistled from his position on the main bridge where he had been listening in. "She's right. I can see the Peeps doing everything she mentioned just to make this a huge headache."

"We don't have the firepower to defeat that fleet," Honor noted flatly.

"No. Not even if they keep heading in fat and happy. "Mercedes Brigham, another older officer from Second Yeltsin, frowned. "They can just pull back out faster than us and then pound us from a distance. At least that is what I would do."

That was when it seemed like a light-switch had been flipped in Honor and Sheila's head.

"He doesn't know Battle Squadron 1 is here, otherwise he would not have his forces coming in like this," Honor voiced in bemused wonder. She was glad that she was slightly better rested than she had hoped. The nap on the flight up had helped quite a bit.

The demigoddess narrowed her eyes. "They know we captured their ships of the wall, but Grayson actually repaired it almost twice as fast as NavInt estimates the Peeps could have. So they think all these super-dreadnoughts that we could have repaired are actually out at Candor and Minette."

"That's why I wanted you here. Admiral Whitehaven gave you quite a recommendation from your time on his staff in your jacket. Manticoria, I want you to let your ship know that you have been temporarily reassigned to my staff," the admiral explained her thoughts. "Here's my plan."

A very messy fleet deployment started to take shape on the holo tank. The rest of her staff leaned forward as the quick plan shaped up.

Sheila keyed in a private transmission to the Phoebe. "Lt. Commander Reynolds, I have some good news and bad news."

The older, handsome man frowned as he looked into his pickup. "Let's hear the bad news first then, I suppose."

"It does not appear I will be released to resume command of the Phoebe. Which leads me to your good news, that you will be commanding a ship into the upcoming battle. I'm sure that will look good for a promotion board of your own." She gave him a quick smile.

"We'll do you proud, captain," Reynolds promised. He actually looked more than a little pleased at the situation.

The teen demigoddess turned back to the holotank, seeing the very 'sloppy looking' deployment that would hide the ten super-dreadnoughts in the middle of the formation that was the key to this desperate gamble. Honor went over what her deployment would be used for, which was basically a absolutely short range ambush to kick the guts out of the fleet.

"Any questions?" Honor asked as she looked over her group.

Her eyes flickered across the deployment, judging and weighing the options. "Post-contact tactics? If we have Battlecruiser Squadron 1 shape a course to the hyperlimit, we can have them microjump of zero-distance and deploy decoy beacons of an arriving 'relief force' just before we make before combat. If we get mauled, it might make break off their attack thinking that reinforcements could crush them." She quickly sketched in the air a locus for Brentworth's smaller fleet. He was currently doing his very best impression of a hole in space.

"Tricky." Honor considered the matter for five seconds. "Set it up, Commander Manticoria."

With that, the ships defending the system left the near Grayson orbit, looking very much like a confused panicked response and nothing like the very carefully planned illusion. Each superdreadnought had their missile-pods actually within their wedge, while all of the smaller ships had just enough pods to actually slow them to match the wall.

The Peeps noticed some discrepancies, but did not actually spot the hidden trap. Believing Honor's deception, Thurston then split off the second part of the mission, as they would be redundant for killing the Mantie 'battlecruisers' ahead of them. Sheila adjusted the planned deception after their immediate battle, though it was really timing.

Five minutes before contact, Battlecruiser 1 managed to make their shortest range hyper jump. They looked like a sloppy transition, even as they smartly launched drones that started broadcasting the emissions of two classes of super-dreadnoughts and one dreadnought. (Sheila was always against using a uniform squadron one type, as that was very rarely an actual occurrence in real life.)

Vice Admiral Alexander Thurston nearly had a heart attack, only to realize that the new 'task force' was too far to the rear and not able to catch up to him. He started giving out orders to track them while he grappled with the numbers. They were suddenly a lot closer to parity to his own fleet. He leaned forward to study his own holo tank. Both of his fleets could take the combined fleets, but it would take careful management not to be defeated in detail. So his order to hold the other fleet steady until after the first clash was a quite reasonable course. He was quickly moving to defeat them in detail (or so he thought.)

And the arrival had distracted his senior sensor techs from noticing Battlesquadron 1 slipping into a dispersion for their wall with their super-dreadnoughts. So the fleet was totally surprised when they reached missile range. Both fleet spat death into each other face, with the Peeps greatly stunned by the overwhelming attack.

Two things happened as both fleets hit their range. A full twenty percent of the lighter units of the Peeps fired as one, targeting _RMN Phoebe_ as the Grayson SDs fired over seventeen hundred missiles right back in their faces.

It was a kick in the gut that the Peeps had not even expected, nor had any time to adapt to. With less than two minutes, Thurston barely had time to realize what had happened and to try and order a targeting change. That cost him nearly fifty seconds and one of his salvos of missiles. Theisman was only barely starting to shape his own course back to the main taskforce when his gravitic sensors told him of the massive launch of missiles that sent a chill up his back.

The heart of the PNS Task Force was hit by over eight hundred missiles as barely forty-five percent of the missiles were jammed, lured off course or destroyed. Admiral Thuston never knew exactly what had struck him down for sure in the last minutes of his life as all of his battleships were destroyed outright.

The return fire ripped into the center of the Grayson and Manticorean fleet, knocking two super-dreadnoughts out of action and wounding all the rest._ GNS Terrible_ shuddered under the strain and battle damage. Over a third of the battlecruisers on the Grayson side were destroyed outright or knocked out of commission, with even greater losses among the lighter units. _RMN Phoebe_ just disappeared, along with its sister escort as they came under too much fire.

CO Rear Admiral Thomas Theisman and People's Commissioner Dennis LePic just stared at the carnage on their long range sensors.

"What happened?" LePic demanded.

"We just got the worst suckerpunch in history is what happened." Theisman leaned closer to see what happened with the follow up waves.

Here the greater mass of the super-dreadnoughts really played up their strength, but the follow up salvos from the Peeps were only targeting the SDs. The true carnage happened when the carefully laid out wall of the line of SDs interpolated as the two fleets passed through each other. It was only twenty seconds while in energy range, but that was more than enough time.

The damage that full broadsides of a super-dreadnought could inflict was horrific, as not one battleship passed through and not many battlecruisers. Acting as if in perfect command, the Grayson fleet started to turn ponderously to meet up with the relief forces that had just arrived.

Theisman could not believe the sudden turnaround. It was like Third Yeltsin all over again. The rear admiral turned to his commissioner gravely. "I regret to inform you that taking Yeltsin or Endicott is now impossible, especially with the addition of the relief super-dreadnoughts that have just arrived." Something about the timing and how everything worked out seemed slightly too neat, but a quick tap of his command console brought up the disposition of the new fleet and its escorts. Five Sphinx-class SDs, two Manticore-class SDs and one Bellephorin-class dreadnought was a serious force.

He hesitated here for just a second. This could be an elaborate ruse. He had noted the transition and then conversion to wedge powered acceleration was slightly suspect. But no admiral that he knew would try to fake a dreadnought in his relief force. Unless it was someone willing to make a perfect deception.

"I-" LePic was a bit more capable of reading the holotank than he had let on. Even without that relief force, taking Yeltsin was likely to be a bloody affair, no matter how damaged those super-dreadnoughts were in the primary force. In fact, if the two forces converged, they would have sixteen super-dreadnoughts versus their remaining battleships and battlecruisers. "I fully agree, admiral. In fact, I order you to retreat so that we can retain as many of the people's lives as possible."

Theisman turned away from the holotank, sighing in relief. That order just made his whole life easier.

* * *

The buzzer on Honor's door sounded as she stepped into her shower. Mac would deal with the visitor while she cleaned up enough to sack out for four hours. She raised an eyebrow as she saw Sheila petting her treecat on her couch.

"Commander?" the admiral asked of the girl.

"Sorry, I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that the only reason Voracious Curiosity and I are alive is because we fell into the plot against your life, your honor." Her blue-green eyes were flat and listless, quite unlike her normal bright and inquisitive expression she normally wore.

Honor frowned as she tried to muddle her way through the situation. "While it is horrible what happened to your command, I am glad that you survived. That post-contact plan turned my adhoc desperation plan into something resembling a reasonable win."

Sheila nodded carefully. "Phoebe was specifically targeted for destruction at a fifty percent higher priority than any other light cruiser."

"Certainly not-" Honor cut herself off. "What sort of analysis shows that?" The younger officer rarely brought up something without the ability to back it up. She picked up Nimitz to hold him tight.

"I was going over the battle again, to try and figure out what we could have done better, though really getting us in close like you did was almost picture perfect, admiral. In the first salvo, almost twice as many missiles were fired at the Phoebe as compared to any lighter unit. In fact, they shot as many missiles at it as they did at our battlecruisers. They murdered my ship."

"You can't blame yourself for that." It was obvious to Honor's eyes that she did though.

"Can you think of any reason that a light cruiser should be singled out to be destroyed with all hands? Its inference, but I think someone killed my command in an attempt to murder me. They were-" Sheila's lips pulled back in a rictus of anger. "-collateral damage. I might as well have killed them myself."

The Steadholder frowned even as Mac brought in a snack and Tillman bear. The survivor's guilt would be horrendous... "What actions are you going to take to track this attack back to its instigators?" Get her thinking, focused on solving the problem.

Sheila blinked at that. "I hadn't- That's a wonderful thought. I can work with Grayson naval intelligence with the captured officers." VC purred as she rubbed her face against her human's cheek. "We know it is someone with pull in the People's Republic."

"Welcome to being hated. I shudder to think what would happen if I fell into their hands," Honor said with a tight smile. "I'll cut you some orders and talk to Protector Benjamin about what happened. I think he will be more than willing to help you in your investigation."

"Thank you, Lady Admiral Harrington. And thank you, Nimitz, for letting VC share your life support module," she finished by talking directly to the cat while layering on the more complex telepathic communication.

Nimitz turned his head and then nodded. Sheila stood up and bowed, then exited as gracefully as she could. Honor's warm, brown eyes watched her until the door closed, wishing for once that her burgeoning telepathic ability could not feel the young woman's despair so keenly.

Honor would have to make sure she got the counselling she would so desperately need.

* * *

**Epilogue: **

Marjorie Sylvester was in bed when the news hit Asgard, weeks after the battle of Fourth Yeltsin. Her personal assistant made sure to forward her the information on the battle as a priority, along with the list of casualties. Her red hair was damp and matted, even as her skin glowed from her exertions of earlier. Languidly, she keyed open the holotank dimly in the darkness that was lit only by candles spread around her lavish bedroom.

Her blue eyes narrowed in consternation as she read the first, stunning bit of information. The Manticorians had smashed another Peep fleet, again making it look easy. The People's Republic was calling it a sham and an ambush that was designed to slaughter their people who just wished to free the Graysons from their unenlightened plutocratic rule, but anyone could read between the lines that Fourth Yeltsin had been another attack to destroy the anti-Peep alliance.

Her too pretty face showed a cold smile as she read through the list of destroyed ships. Phoebe was listed in the middle of the Royal Manticorian Navy losses. For a long second she had a high hope that her obstacle had been destroyed, only to be dashed as she read the list of medals of valor and distinction were laid out.

Even her summoning a curse of fire demons from deep in the heart of Musspelheim had failed to distract her from the most Fateful moment. The battle had to be the most fateful thing there, right?

"Is there a problem, lover?" her latest beau asked as he rolled over. "Don't be cold-"

"Shut up!" the daughter of Slaeger Lokison snarled. "Don't ever call me... that."

"What's the big deal?" the too handsome model she had picked up at the party last night asked. A hint of fear was starting to seep into his vain consciousness. "Let me warm you up-"

"Forbranna," she ordered as flames leaped from the candles in purple sparks.

Mikey Davidson looked at the sparks in awe until the first one landed on his unblemished skin. And started to burn as ordered.

Purple fire washed over the room scorching and scouring everything... everything but Marjorie Sylvester as she stood up from her charring bed. She ignored the walking corpse as he ran for the door, screaming in agony.

Marjorie, demigoddess of Ruination and Scorching, had planning to do. Nothing would stand in the way of her ascension.


End file.
